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Title: Life and Death of John of Barneveld — Complete (1609-1623)

Author: John Lothrop Motley

Release date: November 9, 2004 [eBook #4899]
                Most recently updated: December 28, 2020

Language: English

Credits: Produced by David Widger


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THE LIFE AND DEATH of JOHN OF BARNEVELD, ADVOCATE OF HOLLAND

WITH A VIEW OF THE PRIMARY CAUSES AND MOVEMENTS OF THE THIRTY YEARS' WAR

By John Lothrop Motley, D.C.L., LL.D.


1880


MOTLEY'S HISTORY OF THE NETHERLANDS, Project Gutenberg Edition, Volume 99

THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JOHN OF BARNEVELD, 1609-1623, Complete




PREFACE:

These volumes make a separate work in themselves. They form also the
natural sequel to the other histories already published by the Author, as
well as the necessary introduction to that concluding portion of his
labours which he has always desired to lay before the public; a History
of the Thirty Years' War.

For the two great wars which successively established the independence of
Holland and the disintegration of Germany are in reality but one; a
prolonged Tragedy of Eighty Years. The brief pause, which in the
Netherlands was known as the Twelve Years' Truce with Spain, was
precisely the epoch in which the elements were slowly and certainly
gathering for the renewal over nearly the whole surface of civilized
Europe of that immense conflict which for more than forty years had been
raging within the narrow precincts of the Netherlands.

The causes and character of the two wars were essentially the same. There
were many changes of persons and of scenery during a struggle which
lasted for nearly three generations of mankind; yet a natural succession
both of actors, motives, and events will be observed from the beginning
to the close.

The designs of Charles V. to establish universal monarchy, which he had
passionately followed for a lifetime through a series of colossal crimes
against humanity and of private misdeeds against individuals, such as it
has rarely been permitted to a single despot to perpetrate, had been
baffled at last. Disappointed, broken, but even to our own generation
never completely unveiled, the tyrant had withdrawn from the stage of
human affairs, leaving his son to carry on the great conspiracy against
Human Right, independence of nations, liberty of thought, and equality of
religions, with the additional vigour which sprang from intensity of
conviction.

For Philip possessed at least that superiority over his father that he
was a sincere bigot. In the narrow and gloomy depths of his soul he had
doubtless persuaded himself that it was necessary for the redemption of
the human species that the empire of the world should be vested in his
hands, that Protestantism in all its forms should be extirpated as a
malignant disease, and that to behead, torture, burn alive, and bury
alive all heretics who opposed the decree of himself and the Holy Church
was the highest virtue by which he could merit Heaven.

The father would have permitted Protestantism if Protestantism would have
submitted to universal monarchy. There would have been small difficulty
in the early part of his reign in effecting a compromise between Rome and
Augsburg, had the gigantic secular ambition of Charles not preferred to
weaken the Church and to convert conscientious religious reform into
political mutiny; a crime against him who claimed the sovereignty of
Christendom.

The materials for the true history of that reign lie in the Archives of
Spain, Austria, Rome, Venice, and the Netherlands, and in many other
places. When out of them one day a complete and authentic narrative shall
have been constructed, it will be seen how completely the policy of
Charles foreshadowed and necessitated that of Philip, how logically,
under the successors of Philip, the Austrian dream of universal empire
ended in the shattering, in the minute subdivision, and the reduction to
a long impotence of that Germanic Empire which had really belonged to
Charles.

Unfortunately the great Republic which, notwithstanding the aid of
England on the one side and of France on the other, had withstood almost
single-handed the onslaughts of Spain, now allowed the demon of religious
hatred to enter into its body at the first epoch of peace, although it
had successfully exorcised the evil spirit during the long and terrible
war.

There can be no doubt whatever that the discords within the interior of
the Dutch Republic during the period of the Truce, and their tragic
catastrophe, had weakened her purpose and partially paralysed her arm.
When the noble Commonwealth went forward to the renewed and general
conflict which succeeded the concentrated one in which it had been the
chief actor, the effect of those misspent twelve years became apparent.

Indeed the real continuity of the war was scarcely broken by the fitful,
armistice. The death of John of Cleve, an event almost simultaneous with
the conclusion of the Truce, seemed to those gifted with political vision
the necessary precursor of a new and more general war.

The secret correspondence of Barneveld shows the almost prophetic
accuracy with which he indicated the course of events and the approach of
an almost universal conflict, while that tragedy was still in the future,
and was to be enacted after he had been laid in his bloody grave. No man
then living was so accustomed as he was to sweep the political horizon,
and to estimate the signs and portents of the times. No statesman was
left in Europe during the epoch of the Twelve Years' Truce to compare
with him in experience, breadth of vision, political tact, or
administrative sagacity.

Imbued with the grand traditions and familiar with the great personages
of a most heroic epoch; the trusted friend or respected counsellor of
William the Silent, Henry IV., Elizabeth, and the sages and soldiers on
whom they leaned; having been employed during an already long lifetime in
the administration of greatest affairs, he stood alone after the deaths
of Henry of France and the second Cecil, and the retirement of Sully,
among the natural leaders of mankind.

To the England of Elizabeth, of Walsingham, Raleigh, and the Cecils, had
succeeded the Great Britain of James, with his Carrs and Carletons,
Nauntons, Lakes, and Winwoods. France, widowed of Henry and waiting for
Richelieu, lay in the clutches of Concini's, Epernons, and Bouillons,
bound hand and foot to Spain. Germany, falling from Rudolph to Matthias,
saw Styrian Ferdinand in the background ready to shatter the fabric of a
hundred years of attempted Reformation. In the Republic of the
Netherlands were the great soldier and the only remaining statesman of
the age. At a moment when the breathing space had been agreed upon before
the conflict should be renewed; on a wider field than ever, between
Spanish-Austrian world-empire and independence of the nations; between
the ancient and only Church and the spirit of religious Equality; between
popular Right and royal and sacerdotal Despotism; it would have been
desirable that the soldier and the statesman should stand side by side,
and that the fortunate Confederacy, gifted with two such champions and
placed by its own achievements at the very head of the great party of
resistance, should be true to herself.

These volumes contain a slight and rapid sketch of Barneveld's career up
to the point at which the Twelve Years' Truce with Spain was signed in
the year 1609. In previous works the Author has attempted to assign the
great Advocate's place as part and parcel of history during the
continuance of the War for Independence. During the period of the Truce
he will be found the central figure. The history of Europe, especially of
the Netherlands, Britain, France, and Germany, cannot be thoroughly
appreciated without a knowledge of the designs, the labours, and the fate
of Barneveld.

The materials for estimating his character and judging his judges lie in
the national archives of the land of which he was so long the foremost
citizen. But they have not long been accessible. The letters, state
papers, and other documents remain unprinted, and have rarely been read.
M. van Deventer has published three most interesting volumes of the
Advocate's correspondence, but they reach only to the beginning of 1609.
He has suspended his labours exactly at the moment when these volumes
begin. I have carefully studied however nearly the whole of that
correspondence, besides a mass of other papers. The labour is not light,
for the handwriting of the great Advocate is perhaps the worst that ever
existed, and the papers, although kept in the admirable order which
distinguishes the Archives of the Hague, have passed through many hands
at former epochs before reaching their natural destination in the
treasure-house of the nation. Especially the documents connected with the
famous trial were for a long time hidden from mortal view, for
Barneveld's judges had bound themselves by oath to bury the proceedings
out of sight. And the concealment lasted for centuries. Very recently a
small portion of those papers has been published by the Historical
Society of Utrecht. The "Verhooren," or Interrogatories of the Judges,
and the replies of Barneveld, have thus been laid before the reading
public of Holland, while within the last two years the distinguished and
learned historian, Professor Fruin, has edited the "Verhooren" of Hugo
Grotius.

But papers like these, important as they are, make but a slender portion
of the material out of which a judgment concerning these grave events can
be constructed. I do not therefore offer an apology for the somewhat
copious extracts which I have translated and given in these volumes from
the correspondence of Barneveld and from other manuscripts of great
value--most of them in the Royal Archives of Holland and Belgium--which
are unknown to the public.

I have avoided as much as possible any dealings with the theological
controversies so closely connected with the events which I have attempted
to describe. This work aims at being a political study. The subject is
full of lessons, examples, and warnings for the inhabitants of all free
states. Especially now that the republican system of government is
undergoing a series of experiments with more or less success in one
hemisphere--while in our own land it is consolidated, powerful, and
unchallenged--will the conflicts between the spirits of national
centralization and of provincial sovereignty, and the struggle between
the church, the sword, and the magistracy for supremacy in a free
commonwealth, as revealed in the first considerable republic of modern
history, be found suggestive of deep reflection.

Those who look in this work for a history of the Synod of Dordtrecht will
look in vain. The Author has neither wish nor power to grapple with the
mysteries and passions which at that epoch possessed so many souls. The
Assembly marks a political period. Its political aspects have been
anxiously examined, but beyond the ecclesiastical threshold there has
been no attempt to penetrate.

It was necessary for my purpose to describe in some detail the relations
of Henry IV. with the Dutch Republic during the last and most pregnant
year of his life, which makes the first of the present history. These
relations are of European importance, and the materials for appreciating
them are of unexpected richness, in the Dutch and Belgian Archives.

Especially the secret correspondence, now at the Hague, of that very able
diplomatist Francis Aerssens with Barneveld during the years 1609, 1610,
and 1611, together with many papers at Brussels, are full of vital
importance.

They throw much light both on the vast designs which filled the brain of
Henry at this fatal epoch and on his extraordinary infatuation for the
young Princess of Conde by which they were traversed, and which was
productive of such widespread political anal tragical results. This
episode forms a necessary portion of my theme, and has therefore been set
forth from original sources.

I am under renewed obligations to my friend M. Gachard, the eminent
publicist and archivist of Belgium, for his constant and friendly offices
to me (which I have so often experienced before), while studying the
documents under his charge relating to this epoch; especially the secret
correspondence of Archduke Albert with Philip III, and his ministers, and
with Pecquius, the Archduke's agent at Paris.

It is also a great pleasure to acknowledge the unceasing courtesy and
zealous aid rendered me during my renewed studies in the Archives at the
Hague--lasting through nearly two years--by the Chief Archivist, M. van
den Berg, and the gentlemen connected with that institution, especially
M. de Jonghe and M. Hingman, without whose aid it would have been
difficult for me to decipher and to procure copies of the almost
illegible holographs of Barneveld.

I must also thank M. van Deventer for communicating copies of some
curious manuscripts relating to my subject, some from private archives in
Holland, and others from those of Simancas.

A single word only remains to be said in regard to the name of the
statesman whose career I have undertaken to describe.

His proper appellation and that by which he has always been known in his
own country is Oldenbarneveld, but in his lifetime and always in history
from that time to this he has been called Barneveld in English as well as
French, and this transformation, as it were, of the name has become so
settled a matter that after some hesitation it has been adopted in the
present work.

The Author would take this opportunity of expressing his gratitude for
the indulgence with which his former attempts to illustrate an important
period of European history have been received by the public, and his
anxious hope that the present volumes may be thought worthy of attention.
They are the result at least of severe and conscientious labour at the
original sources of history, but the subject is so complicated and
difficult that it may well be feared that the ability to depict and
unravel is unequal to the earnestness with which the attempt has been
made.

LONDON, 1873.





THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JOHN OF BARNEVELD, v1, 1609




CHAPTER I.

   John of Barneveld the Founder of the Commonwealth of the United
   Provinces--Maurice of Orange Stadholder, but Servant to the States-
   General--The Union of Utrecht maintained--Barneveld makes a
   Compromise between Civil Functionaries and Church Officials--
   Embassies to France, England, and to Venice--the Appointment of
   Arminius to be Professor of Theology at Leyden creates Dissension--
   The Catholic League opposed by the Great Protestant Union--Death of
   the Duke of Cleve and Struggle for his Succession--The Elector of
   Brandenburg and Palatine of Neuburg hold the Duchies at Barneveld's
   Advice against the Emperor, though having Rival Claims themselves--
   Negotiations with the King of France--He becomes the Ally of the
   States-General to Protect the Possessory Princes, and prepares for
   war.

I propose to retrace the history of a great statesman's career. That
statesman's name, but for the dark and tragic scenes with which it was
ultimately associated, might after the lapse of two centuries and a half
have faded into comparative oblivion, so impersonal and shadowy his
presence would have seemed upon the great European theatre where he was
so long a chief actor, and where his efforts and his achievements were
foremost among those productive of long enduring and widespread results.

There is no doubt whatever that John of Barneveld, Advocate and Seal
Keeper of the little province of Holland during forty years of as
troubled and fertile an epoch as any in human history, was second to none
of his contemporary statesmen. Yet the singular constitution and
historical position of the republic whose destinies he guided and the
peculiar and abnormal office which he held combined to cast a veil over
his individuality. The ever-teeming brain, the restless almost
omnipresent hand, the fertile pen, the eloquent and ready tongue, were
seen, heard, and obeyed by the great European public, by the monarchs,
statesmen, and warriors of the time, at many critical moments of history,
but it was not John of Barneveld that spoke to the world. Those "high and
puissant Lords my masters the States-General" personified the young but
already majestic republic. Dignified, draped, and concealed by that
overshadowing title the informing and master spirit performed its never
ending task.

Those who study the enormous masses of original papers in the archives of
the country will be amazed to find how the penmanship, most difficult to
decipher, of the Advocate meets them at every turn. Letters to monarchs,
generals, ambassadors, resolutions of councils, of sovereign assemblies,
of trading corporations, of great Indian companies, legal and historical
disquisitions of great depth and length on questions agitating Europe,
constitutional arguments, drafts of treaties among the leading powers of
the world, instructions to great commissions, plans for European
campaigns, vast combinations covering the world, alliances of empire,
scientific expeditions and discoveries--papers such as these covered now
with the satirical dust of centuries, written in the small, crabbed,
exasperating characters which make Barneveld's handwriting almost
cryptographic, were once, when fairly engrossed and sealed with the great
seal of the haughty burgher-aristocracy, the documents which occupied the
close attention of the cabinets of Christendom.

It is not unfrequent to find four or five important despatches compressed
almost in miniature upon one sheet of gigantic foolscap. It is also
curious to find each one of these rough drafts conscientiously beginning
in the statesman's own hand with the elaborate phrases of compliment
belonging to the epoch such as "Noble, strenuous, severe, highly
honourable, very learned, very discreet, and very wise masters," and
ending with "May the Lord God Almighty eternally preserve you and hold
you in His holy keeping in this world and for ever"--decorations which
one might have thought it safe to leave to be filled in by the secretary
or copying clerk.

Thus there have been few men at any period whose lives have been more
closely identical than his with a national history. There have been few
great men in any history whose names have become less familiar to the
world, and lived less in the mouths of posterity. Yet there can be no
doubt that if William the Silent was the founder of the independence of
the United Provinces Barneveld was the founder of the Commonwealth
itself. He had never the opportunity, perhaps he might have never had the
capacity, to make such prodigious sacrifices in the cause of country as
the great prince had done. But he had served his country strenuously from
youth to old age with an abiding sense of duty, a steadiness of purpose,
a broad vision, a firm grasp, and an opulence of resource such as not one
of his compatriots could even pretend to rival.

Had that country of which he was so long the first citizen maintained
until our own day the same proportionate position among the empires of
Christendom as it held in the seventeenth century, the name of John of
Barneveld would have perhaps been as familiar to all men as it is at this
moment to nearly every inhabitant of the Netherlands. Even now political
passion is almost as ready to flame forth either in ardent affection or
enthusiastic hatred as if two centuries and a half had not elapsed since
his death. His name is so typical of a party, a polity, and a faith, so
indelibly associated with a great historical cataclysm, as to render it
difficult even for the grave, the conscientious, the learned, the
patriotic of his own compatriots to speak of him with absolute
impartiality.

A foreigner who loves and admires all that is great and noble in the
history of that famous republic and can have no hereditary bias as to its
ecclesiastical or political theories may at least attempt the task with
comparative coldness, although conscious of inability to do thorough
justice to a most complex subject.

In former publications devoted to Netherland history I have endeavoured
to trace the course of events of which the life and works of the Advocate
were a vital ingredient down to the period when Spain after more than
forty years of hard fighting virtually acknowledged the independence of
the Republic and concluded with her a truce of twelve years.

That convention was signed in the spring of 1609. The ten ensuing years
in Europe were comparatively tranquil, but they were scarcely to be
numbered among the full and fruitful sheaves of a pacific epoch. It was a
pause, a breathing spell during which the sulphurous clouds which had
made the atmosphere of Christendom poisonous for nearly half a century
had sullenly rolled away, while at every point of the horizon they were
seen massing themselves anew in portentous and ever accumulating
strength. At any moment the faint and sickly sunshine in which poor
exhausted Humanity was essaying a feeble twitter of hope as it plumed
itself for a peaceful flight might be again obscured. To us of a remote
posterity the momentary division of epochs seems hardly discernible. So
rapidly did that fight of Demons which we call the Thirty Years' War
tread on the heels of the forty years' struggle for Dutch Independence
which had just been suspended that we are accustomed to think and speak
of the Eighty Years' War as one pure, perfect, sanguinary whole.

And indeed the Tragedy which was soon to sweep solemnly across Europe was
foreshadowed in the first fitful years of peace. The throb of the
elementary forces already shook the soil of Christendom. The fantastic
but most significant conflict in the territories of the dead Duke of
Clove reflected the distant and gigantic war as in a mirage. It will be
necessary to direct the reader's attention at the proper moment to that
episode, for it was one in which the beneficent sagacity of Barneveld was
conspicuously exerted in the cause of peace and conservation. Meantime it
is not agreeable to reflect that this brief period of nominal and armed
peace which the Republic had conquered after nearly two generations of
warfare was employed by her in tearing her own flesh. The heroic sword
which had achieved such triumphs in the cause of freedom could have been
bitter employed than in an attempt at political suicide.

In a picture of the last decade of Barneveld's eventful life his
personality may come more distinctly forward perhaps than in previous
epochs. It will however be difficult to disentangle a single thread from
the great historical tapestry of the Republic and of Europe in which his
life and achievements are interwoven. He was a public man in the fullest
sense of the word, and without his presence and influence the record of
Holland, France, Spain, Britain, and Germany might have been essentially
modified.

The Republic was so integral a part of that system which divided Europe
into two great hostile camps according to creeds rather than frontiers
that the history of its foremost citizen touches at every point the
general history of Christendom.

The great peculiarity of the Dutch constitution at this epoch was that no
principle was absolutely settled. In throwing off a foreign tyranny and
successfully vindicating national independence the burghers and nobles
had not had leisure to lay down any organic law. Nor had the day for
profound investigation of the political or social contract arrived. Men
dealt almost exclusively with facts, and when the facts arranged
themselves illogically and incoherently the mischief was grave and
difficult to remedy. It is not a trifling inconvenience for an organized
commonwealth to be in doubt as to where, in whom, and of what nature is
its sovereignty. Yet this was precisely the condition of the United
Netherlands. To the eternal world so dazzling were the reputation and the
achievements of their great captain that he was looked upon by many as
the legitimate chief of the state and doubtless friendly monarchs would
have cordially welcomed him into their brotherhood.

During the war he had been surrounded by almost royal state. Two hundred
officers lived daily at his table. Great nobles and scions of sovereign
houses were his pupils or satellites. The splendour of military despotism
and the awe inspired by his unquestioned supremacy in what was deemed the
greatest of all sciences invested the person of Maurice of Nassau with a
grandeur which many a crowned potentate might envy. His ample
appointments united with the spoils of war provided him with almost royal
revenues, even before the death of his elder brother Philip William had
placed in his hands the principality and wealthy possessions of Orange.
Hating contradiction, arbitrary by instinct and by military habit,
impatient of criticism, and having long acknowledged no master in the
chief business of state, he found himself at the conclusion of the truce
with his great occupation gone, and, although generously provided for by
the treasury of the Republic, yet with an income proportionately limited.

Politics and theology were fields in which he had hardly served an
apprenticeship, and it was possible that when he should step forward as a
master in those complicated and difficult pursuits, soon to absorb the
attention of the Commonwealth and the world, it might appear that war was
not the only science that required serious preliminary studies.

Meantime he found himself not a king, not the master of a nominal
republic, but the servant of the States-General, and the limited
stadholder of five out of seven separate provinces.

And the States-General were virtually John of Barneveld. Could antagonism
be more sharply defined? Jealousy, that potent principle which controls
the regular movements and accounts for the aberrations of humanity in
widest spheres as well as narrowest circles far more generally and
conclusively than philosophers or historians have been willing to admit,
began forthwith to manifest its subtle and irresistible influence.

And there were not to be wanting acute and dangerous schemers who saw
their profit in augmenting its intensity.

The Seven Provinces, when the truce of twelve years had been signed, were
neither exhausted nor impoverished. Yet they had just emerged from a
forty years' conflict such as no people in human history had ever waged
against a foreign tyranny. They had need to repose and recruit, but they
stood among the foremost great powers of the day. It is not easy in
imagination to thrust back the present leading empires of the earth into
the contracted spheres of their not remote past. But to feel how a little
confederacy of seven provinces loosely tied together by an ill-defined
treaty could hold so prominent and often so controlling a place in the
European system of the seventeenth century, we must remember that there
was then no Germany, no Russia, no Italy, no United States of America,
scarcely even a Great Britain in the sense which belongs to that mighty
empire now.

France, Spain, England, the Pope, and the Emperor were the leading powers
with which the Netherlands were daily called on to solve great problems
and try conclusions; the study of political international equilibrium,
now rapidly and perhaps fortunately becoming one of the lost arts, being
then the most indispensable duty of kings and statesmen.

Spain and France, which had long since achieved for themselves the
political union of many independent kingdoms and states into which they
had been divided were the most considerable powers and of necessity
rivals. Spain, or rather the House of Austria divided into its two great
branches, still pursued its persistent and by no means fantastic dream of
universal monarchy. Both Spain and France could dispose of somewhat
larger resources absolutely, although not relatively, than the Seven
Provinces, while at least trebling them in population. The yearly revenue
of Spain after deduction of its pledged resources was perhaps equal to a
million sterling, and that of France with the same reservation was about
as much. England had hardly been able to levy and make up a yearly income
of more than L600,000 or L700,000 at the end of Elizabeth's reign or in
the first years of James, while the Netherlands had often proved
themselves capable of furnishing annually ten or twelve millions of
florins, which would be the equivalent of nearly a million sterling.

The yearly revenues of the whole monarchy of the Imperial house of
Habsburg can scarcely be stated at a higher figure than L350,000.

Thus the political game--for it was a game--was by no means a desperate
one for the Netherlands, nor the resources of the various players so
unequally distributed as at first sight it might appear.

The emancipation of the Provinces from the grasp of Spain and the
establishment by them of a commonwealth, for that epoch a very free one,
and which contained within itself the germs of a larger liberty,
religious, political, and commercial, than had yet been known, was
already one of the most considerable results of the Reformation. The
probability of its continued and independent existence was hardly
believed in by potentate or statesman outside its own borders, and had
not been very long a decided article of faith even within them. The
knotty problem of an acknowledgment of that existence, the admission of
the new-born state into the family of nations, and a temporary peace
guaranteed by two great powers, had at last been solved mainly by the
genius of Barneveld working amid many disadvantages and against great
obstructions. The truce had been made, and it now needed all the skill,
coolness, and courage of a practical and original statesman to conduct
the affairs of the Confederacy. The troubled epoch of peace was even now
heaving with warlike emotions, and was hardly less stormy than the war
which had just been suspended.

The Republic was like a raft loosely strung together, floating almost on
a level of the ocean, and often half submerged, but freighted with
inestimable treasures for itself and the world. It needed an unsleeping
eye and a powerful brain to conduct her over the quicksands and through
the whirlpools of an unmapped and intricate course.

The sovereignty of the country so far as its nature could be
satisfactorily analysed seemed to be scattered through, and inherent in
each one of, the multitudinous boards of magistracy--close corporations,
self-elected--by which every city was governed. Nothing could be more
preposterous. Practically, however, these boards were represented by
deputies in each of the seven provincial assemblies, and these again sent
councillors from among their number to the general assembly which was
that of their High Mightinesses the Lords States-General.

The Province of Holland, being richer and more powerful than all its six
sisters combined, was not unwilling to impose a supremacy which on the
whole was practically conceded by the rest. Thus the Union of Utrecht
established in 1579 was maintained for want of anything better as the
foundation of the Commonwealth.

The Advocate and Keeper of the Great Seal of that province was therefore
virtually prime minister, president, attorney-general, finance minister,
and minister of foreign affairs of the whole republic. This was
Barneveld's position. He took the lead in the deliberations both of the
States of Holland and the States-General, moved resolutions, advocated
great measures of state, gave heed to their execution, collected the
votes, summed up the proceedings, corresponded with and instructed
ambassadors, received and negotiated with foreign ministers, besides
directing and holding in his hands the various threads of the home policy
and the rapidly growing colonial system of the Republic.

All this work Barneveld had been doing for thirty years.

The Reformation was by no mans assured even in the lands where it had at
first made the most essential progress. But the existence of the new
commonwealth depended on the success of that great movement which had
called it into being. Losing ground in France, fluctuating in England,
Protestantism was apparently more triumphant in vast territories where
the ancient Church was one day to recover its mastery. Of the population
of Bohemia, there were perhaps ten Protestants to one Papist, while in
the United Netherlands at least one-third of the people were still
attached to the Catholic faith.

The great religious struggle in Bohemia and other dominions of the
Habsburg family was fast leading to a war of which no man could even
imagine the horrors or foresee the vast extent. The Catholic League and
the Protestant Union were slowly arranging Europe into two mighty
confederacies.

They were to give employment year after year to millions of mercenary
freebooters who were to practise murder, pillage, and every imaginable
and unimaginable outrage as the most legitimate industry that could
occupy mankind. The Holy Empire which so ingeniously combined the worst
characteristics of despotism and republicanism kept all Germany and half
Europe in the turmoil of a perpetual presidential election. A theatre
where trivial personages and graceless actors performed a tragi-comedy of
mingled folly, intrigue, and crime, and where earnestness and vigour were
destined to be constantly baffled, now offered the principal stage for
the entertainment and excitement of Christendom.

There was but one king in Europe, Henry the Bearnese. The men who sat on
the thrones in Madrid, Vienna, London, would have lived and died unknown
but for the crowns they wore, and while there were plenty of bustling
politicians here and there in Christendom, there were not many statesmen.

Among them there was no stronger man than John of Barneveld, and no man
had harder or more complicated work to do.

Born in Amersfoort in 1547, of the ancient and knightly house of
Oldenbarneveldt, of patrician blood through all his ancestors both male
and female, he was not the heir to large possessions, and was a diligent
student and hardworking man from youth upward. He was not wont to boast
of his pedigree until in later life, being assailed by vilest slander,
all his kindred nearest or most remote being charged with every possible
and unmentionable crime, and himself stigmatized as sprung from the
lowest kennels of humanity--as if thereby his private character and
public services could be more legitimately blackened--he was stung into
exhibiting to the world the purity and antiquity of his escutcheon, and a
roll of respectably placed, well estated, and authentically noble, if not
at all illustrious, forefathers in his country's records of the previous
centuries.

Without an ancestor at his back he might have valued himself still more
highly on the commanding place he held in the world by right divine of
intellect, but as the father of lies seemed to have kept his creatures so
busy with the Barneveld genealogy, it was not amiss for the statesman
once for all to make the truth known.

His studies in the universities of Holland, France, Italy, and Germany
had been profound. At an early age he was one of the first civilians of
the time. His manhood being almost contemporary with the great war of
freedom, he had served as a volunteer and at his own expense through
several campaigns, having nearly lost his life in the disastrous attempt
to relieve the siege of Haarlem, and having been so disabled by sickness
and exposure at the heroic leaguer of Leyden as to have been deprived of
the joy of witnessing its triumphant conclusion.

Successfully practising his profession afterwards before the tribunals of
Holland, he had been called at the comparatively early age of twenty-nine
to the important post of Chief Pensionary of Rotterdam. So long as
William the Silent lived, that great prince was all in all to his
country, and Barneveld was proud and happy to be among the most trusted
and assiduous of his counsellors.

When the assassination of William seemed for an instant to strike the
Republic with paralysis, Barneveld was foremost among the statesmen of
Holland to spring forward and help to inspire it with renewed energy.

The almost completed negotiations for conferring the sovereignty, not of
the Confederacy, but of the Province of Holland, upon the Prince had been
abruptly brought to an end by his death. To confer that sovereign
countship on his son Maurice, then a lad of eighteen and a student at
Leyden, would have seemed to many at so terrible a crisis an act of
madness, although Barneveld had been willing to suggest and promote the
scheme. The confederates under his guidance soon hastened however to lay
the sovereignty, and if not the sovereignty, the protectorship, of all
the provinces at the feet first of England and then of France.

Barneveld was at the head of the embassy, and indeed was the
indispensable head of all important, embassies to each of those two
countries throughout all this portion of his career. Both monarchs
refused, almost spurned, the offered crown in which was involved a war
with the greatest power in the world, with no compensating dignity or
benefit, as it was thought, beside.

Then Elizabeth, although declining the sovereignty, promised assistance
and sent the Earl of Leicester as governor-general at the head of a
contingent of English troops. Precisely to prevent the consolidation thus
threatened of the Provinces into one union, a measure which had been
attempted more than once in the Burgundian epoch, and always successfully
resisted by the spirit of provincial separatism, Barneveld now proposed
and carried the appointment of Maurice of Nassau to the stadholdership of
Holland. This was done against great opposition and amid fierce debate.
Soon afterwards Barneveld was vehemently urged by the nobles and regents
of the cities of Holland to accept the post of Advocate of that province.
After repeatedly declining the arduous and most responsible office, he
was at last induced to accept it. He did it under the remarkable
condition that in case any negotiation should be undertaken for the
purpose of bringing back the Province of Holland under the dominion of
the King of Spain, he should be considered as from that moment relieved
from the service.

His brother Elias Barneveld succeeded him as Pensionary of Rotterdam, and
thenceforth the career of the Advocate is identical with the history of
the Netherlands. Although a native of Utrecht, he was competent to
exercise such functions in Holland, a special and ancient convention
between those two provinces allowing the citizens of either to enjoy
legal and civic rights in both. Gradually, without intrigue or inordinate
ambition, but from force of circumstances and the commanding power of the
man, the native authority stamped upon his forehead, he became the
political head of the Confederacy. He created and maintained a system of
public credit absolutely marvellous in the circumstances, by means of
which an otherwise impossible struggle was carried to a victorious end.

When the stadholderate of the provinces of Gelderland, Utrecht, and
Overyssel became vacant, it was again Barneveld's potent influence and
sincere attachment to the House of Nassau that procured the election of
Maurice to those posts. Thus within six years after his father's death
the youthful soldier who had already given proof of his surpassing
military genius had become governor, commander-in-chief, and high
admiral, of five of the seven provinces constituting the Confederacy.

At about the same period the great question of Church and State, which
Barneveld had always felt to be among the vital problems of the age, and
on which his opinions were most decided, came up for partial solution. It
would have been too much to expect the opinion of any statesman to be so
much in advance of his time as to favor religious equality. Toleration of
various creeds, including the Roman Catholic, so far as abstinence from
inquisition into consciences and private parlours could be called
toleration, was secured, and that was a considerable step in advance of
the practice of the sixteenth century. Burning, hanging, and burying
alive of culprits guilty of another creed than the dominant one had
become obsolete. But there was an established creed--the Reformed
religion, founded on the Netherland Confession and the Heidelberg
Catechism. And there was one established principle then considered
throughout Europe the grand result of the Reformation; "Cujus regio ejus
religio;" which was in reality as impudent an invasion of human right as
any heaven-born dogma of Infallibility. The sovereign of a country,
having appropriated the revenues of the ancient church, prescribed his
own creed to his subjects. In the royal conscience were included the
million consciences of his subjects. The inevitable result in a country
like the Netherlands, without a personal sovereign, was a struggle
between the new church and the civil government for mastery. And at this
period, and always in Barneveld's opinion, the question of dogma was
subordinate to that of church government. That there should be no
authority over the King had been settled in England.

Henry VIII., Elizabeth, and afterwards James, having become popes in
their own realm, had no great hostility to, but rather an affection for,
ancient dogma and splendid ceremonial. But in the Seven Provinces, even
as in France, Germany, and Switzerland, the reform where it had been
effected at all had been more thorough, and there was little left of
Popish pomp or aristocratic hierarchy. Nothing could be severer than the
simplicity of the Reformed Church, nothing more imperious than its dogma,
nothing more infallible than its creed. It was the true religion, and
there was none other. But to whom belonged the ecclesiastical edifices,
the splendid old minsters in the cities--raised by the people's confiding
piety and the purchased remission of their sins in a bygone age--and the
humbler but beautiful parish churches in every town and village? To the
State; said Barneveld, speaking for government; to the community
represented by the states of the provinces, the magistracies of the
cities and municipalities. To the Church itself, the one true church
represented by its elders, and deacons, and preachers, was the reply.

And to whom belonged the right of prescribing laws and ordinances of
public worship, of appointing preachers, church servants, schoolmasters,
sextons? To the Holy Ghost inspiring the Class and the Synod, said the
Church.

To the civil authority, said the magistrates, by which the churches are
maintained, and the salaries of the ecclesiastics paid. The states of
Holland are as sovereign as the kings of England or Denmark, the electors
of Saxony or Brandenburg, the magistrates of Zurich or Basel or other
Swiss cantons. "Cujus regio ejus religio."

In 1590 there was a compromise under the guidance of Barneveld. It was
agreed that an appointing board should be established composed of civil
functionaries and church officials in equal numbers. Thus should the
interests of religion and of education be maintained.

The compromise was successful enough during the war. External pressure
kept down theological passion, and there were as yet few symptoms of
schism in the dominant church. But there was to come a time when the
struggle between church and government was to break forth with an
intensity and to rage to an extent which no man at that moment could
imagine.

Towards the end of the century Henry IV. made peace with Spain. It was a
trying moment for the Provinces. Barneveld was again sent forth on an
embassy to the King. The cardinal point in his policy, as it had ever
been in that of William the Silent, was to maintain close friendship with
France, whoever might be its ruler. An alliance between that kingdom and
Spain would be instantaneous ruin to the Republic. With the French and
English sovereigns united with the Provinces, the cause of the
Reformation might triumph, the Spanish world-empire be annihilated,
national independence secured.

Henry assured the Ambassador that the treaty of Vervins was
indispensable, but that he would never desert his old allies. In proof of
this, although he had just bound himself to Spain to give no assistance
to the Provinces, open or secret, he would furnish them with thirteen
hundred thousand crowns, payable at intervals during four years. He was
under great obligations to his good friends the States, he said, and
nothing in the treaty forbade him to pay his debts.

It was at this period too that Barneveld was employed by the King to
attend to certain legal and other private business for which he professed
himself too poor at the moment to compensate him. There seems to have
been nothing in the usages of the time or country to make the
transaction, innocent in itself, in any degree disreputable. The King
promised at some future clay, when he should be more in funds, to pay him
a liberal fee. Barneveld, who a dozen years afterwards received 20,000
florins for his labour, professed that he would much rather have had one
thousand at the time.

Thence the Advocate, accompanied by his colleague, Justinus de Nassau,
proceeded to England, where they had many stormy interviews with
Elizabeth. The Queen swore with many an oath that she too would make
peace with Philip, recommended the Provinces to do the same thing with
submission to their ancient tyrant, and claimed from the States immediate
payment of one million sterling in satisfaction of their old debts to
her. It would have been as easy for them at that moment to pay a thousand
million. It was at last agreed that the sum of the debt should be fixed
at L800,000, and that the cautionary towns should be held in Elizabeth's
hands by English troops until all the debt should be discharged. Thus
England for a long time afterwards continued to regard itself, as in a
measure the sovereign and proprietor of the Confederacy, and Barneveld
then and there formed the resolve to relieve the country of the incubus,
and to recover those cautionary towns and fortresses at the earliest
possible moment. So long as foreign soldiers commanded by military
governors existed on the soil of the Netherlands, they could hardly
account themselves independent. Besides, there was the perpetual and
horrid nightmare, that by a sudden pacification between Spain and England
those important cities, keys to the country's defence, might be handed
over to their ancient tyrant.

Elizabeth had been pacified at last, however, by the eloquence of the
Ambassador. "I will assist you even if you were up to the neck in water,"
she said. "Jusque la," she added, pointing to her chin.

Five years later Barneveld, for the fifth time at the head of a great
embassy, was sent to England to congratulate James on his accession. It
was then and there that he took measure of the monarch with whom he was
destined to have many dealings, and who was to exert so baleful an
influence on his career. At last came the time when it was felt that
peace between Spain and her revolted provinces might be made. The
conservation of their ancient laws, privileges, and charters, the
independence of the States, and included therein the freedom to establish
the Reformed religion, had been secured by forty years of fighting.

The honour of Spain was saved by a conjunction. She agreed to treat with
her old dependencies "as" with states over which she had no pretensions.
Through virtue of an "as," a truce after two years' negotiation,
perpetually traversed and secretly countermined by the military party
under the influence of Maurice, was carried by the determination of
Barneveld. The great objects of the war had been secured. The country was
weary of nearly half a century of bloodshed. It was time to remember that
there could be such a condition as Peace.

The treaty was signed, ratifications exchanged, and the usual presents of
considerable sums of money to the negotiators made. Barneveld earnestly
protested against carrying out the custom on this occasion, and urged
that those presents should be given for the public use. He was overruled
by those who were more desirous of receiving their reward than he was,
and he accordingly, in common with the other diplomatists, accepted the
gifts.

The various details of these negotiations have been related by the author
in other volumes, to which the present one is intended as a sequel. It
has been thought necessary merely to recall very briefly a few salient
passages in the career of the Advocate up to the period when the present
history really opens.

Their bearing upon subsequent events will easily be observed. The truce
was the work of Barneveld. It was detested by Maurice and by Maurice's
partisans.

"I fear that our enemies and evil reports are the cause of many of our
difficulties," said the Advocate to the States' envoy in Paris, in 1606.
"You are to pay no heed to private advices. Believe and make others
believe that more than one half the inhabitants of the cities and in the
open country are inclined to peace. And I believe, in case of continuing
adversities, that the other half will not remain constant, principally
because the Provinces are robbed of all traffic, prosperity, and
navigation, through the actions of France and England. I have always
thought it for the advantage of his Majesty to sustain us in such wise as
would make us useful in his service. As to his remaining permanently at
peace with Spain, that would seem quite out of the question."

The King had long kept, according to treaty, a couple of French regiments
in the States' service, and furnished, or was bound to furnish, a certain
yearly sum for their support. But the expenses of the campaigning had
been rapidly increasing and the results as swiftly dwindling. The
Advocate now explained that, "without loss both of important places and
of reputation," the States could not help spending every month that they
took the field 200,000 florins over and above the regular contributions,
and some months a great deal more. This sum, he said, in nine months,
would more than eat up the whole subsidy of the King. If they were to be
in the field by March or beginning of April, they would require from him
an extraordinary sum of 200,000 crowns, and as much more in June or July.

Eighteen months later, when the magnificent naval victory of Heemskerk in
the Bay of Gibraltar had just made a startling interlude to the
languishing negotiations for peace, the Advocate again warned the French
King of the difficulty in which the Republic still laboured of carrying
on the mighty struggle alone. Spain was the common enemy of all. No peace
or hope was possible for the leading powers as long as Spain was
perpetually encamped in the very heart of Western Europe. The Netherlands
were not fighting their own battle merely, but that of freedom and
independence against the all-encroaching world-power. And their means to
carry on the conflict were dwindling, while at the same time there was a
favourable opportunity for cropping some fruit from their previous
labours and sacrifices.

"We are led to doubt," he wrote once more to the envoy in France,
"whether the King's full powers will come from Spain. This defeat is hard
for the Spaniards to digest. Meantime our burdens are quite above our
capacity, as you will understand by the enclosed statement, which is made
out with much exactness to show what is absolutely necessary for a
vigorous defence on land and a respectable position at sea to keep things
from entire confusion. The Provinces could raise means for the half of
this estimate. But, it is a great difference when the means differ one
half from the expenses. The sovereignst and most assured remedy would be
the one so often demanded, often projected, and sometimes almost prepared
for execution, namely that our neighbour kings, princes, and republics
should earnestly take the matter in hand and drive the Spaniards and
their adherents out of the Netherlands and over the mountains. Their own
dignity and security ought not to permit such great bodies of troops of
both belligerents permanently massed in the Netherlands. Still less ought
they to allow these Provinces to fall into the hands of the Spaniards,
whence they could with so much more power and convenience make war upon
all kings, princes, and republics. This must be prevented by one means or
another. It ought to be enough for every one that we have been between
thirty and forty years a firm bulwark against Spanish ambition. Our
constancy and patience ought to be strengthened by counsel and by deed in
order that we may exist; a Christian sympathy and a small assistance not
being sufficient. Believe and cause to be believed that the present
condition of our affairs requires more aid in counsel and money than ever
before, and that nothing could be better bestowed than to further this
end.

"Messieurs Jeannin, Buzenval, and de Russy have been all here these
twelve days. We have firm hopes that other kings, princes, and republics
will not stay upon formalities, but will also visit the patients here in
order to administer sovereign remedies.

"Lend no ear to any flying reports. We say with the wise men over there,
'Metuo Danaos et dons ferentes.' We know our antagonists well, and trust
their hearts no more than before, 'sed ultra posse non est esse.' To
accept more burthens than we can pay for will breed military mutiny; to
tax the community above its strength will cause popular tumults,
especially in 'rebus adversis,' of which the beginnings were seen last
year, and without a powerful army the enemy is not to be withstood. I
have received your letters to the 17th May. My advice is to trust to his
upright proceedings and with patience to overcome all things. Thus shall
the detractors and calumniators best be confounded. Assure his Majesty
and his ministers that I will do my utmost to avert our ruin and his
Majesty's disservice."

The treaty was made, and from that time forth the antagonism between the
eminent statesman and the great military chieftain became inevitable. The
importance of the one seemed likely to increase day by day. The
occupation of the other for a time was over.

During the war Maurice had been, with exception of Henry IV., the most
considerable personage in Europe. He was surrounded with that visible
atmosphere of power the poison of which it is so difficult to resist, and
through the golden haze of which a mortal seems to dilate for the vulgar
eye into the supernatural. The attention of Christendom was perpetually
fixed upon him. Nothing like his sieges, his encampments, his military
discipline, his scientific campaigning had been seen before in modern
Europe. The youthful aristocracy from all countries thronged to his camp
to learn the game of war, for he had restored by diligent study of the
ancients much that was noble in that pursuit, and had elevated into an
art that which had long since degenerated into a system of butchery,
marauding, and rapine. And he had fought with signal success and
unquestionable heroism the most important and most brilliant pitched
battle of the age. He was a central figure of the current history of
Europe. Pagan nations looked up to him as one of the leading sovereigns
of Christendom. The Emperor of Japan addressed him as his brother
monarch, assured him that his subjects trading to that distant empire
should be welcomed and protected, and expressed himself ashamed that so
great a prince, whose name and fame had spread through the world, should
send his subjects to visit a country so distant and unknown, and offer
its emperor a friendship which he was unconscious of deserving.

He had been a commander of armies and a chief among men since he came to
man's estate, and he was now in the very vigour of life, in his
forty-second year. Of Imperial descent and closely connected by blood or
alliance with many of the most illustrious of reigning houses, the
acknowledged master of the most royal and noble of all sciences, he was
of the stuff of which kings were made, and belonged by what was then
accounted right divine to the family of kings. His father's death had
alone prevented his elevation to the throne of Holland, and such
possession of half the sovereignty of the United Netherlands would
probably have expanded into dominion over all the seven with a not
fantastic possibility of uniting the ten still obedient provinces into a
single realm. Such a kingdom would have been more populous and far
wealthier than contemporary Great Britain and Ireland. Maurice, then a
student at Leyden, was too young at that crisis, and his powers too
undeveloped to justify any serious attempt to place him in his father's
place.

The Netherlands drifted into a confederacy of aristocratic republics, not
because they had planned a republic, but because they could not get a
king, foreign or native. The documents regarding the offer of the
sovereign countship to William remained in the possession of Maurice, and
a few years before the peace there had been a private meeting of leading
personages, of which Barneveld was the promoter and chief spokesman, to
take into consideration the propriety and possibility of conferring that
sovereignty upon the son which had virtually belonged to the father. The
obstacles were deemed so numerous, and especially the scheme seemed so
fraught with danger to Maurice, that it was reluctantly abandoned by his
best friends, among whom unquestionably was the Advocate.

There was no reason whatever why the now successful and mature soldier,
to whom the country was under such vast obligations, should not aspire to
the sovereignty. The Provinces had not pledged themselves to
republicanism, but rather to monarchy, and the crown, although secretly
coveted by Henry IV., could by no possibility now be conferred on any
other man than Maurice. It was no impeachment on his character that he
should nourish thoughts in which there was nothing criminal.

But the peace negotiations had opened a chasm. It was obvious enough that
Barneveld having now so long exercised great powers, and become as it
were the chief magistrate of an important commonwealth, would not be so
friendly as formerly to its conversion into a monarchy and to the
elevation of the great soldier to its throne. The Advocate had even been
sounded, cautiously and secretly, so men believed, by the
Princess-Dowager, Louise de Coligny, widow of William the silent, as to
the feasibility of procuring the sovereignty for Maurice. She had done
this at the instigation of Maurice, who had expressed his belief that the
favourable influence of the Advocate would make success certain and who
had represented to her that, as he was himself resolved never to marry,
the inheritance after his death would fall to her son Frederick Henry.
The Princess, who was of a most amiable disposition, adored her son.
Devoted to the House of Nassau and a great admirer of its chief, she had
a long interview with Barneveld, in which she urged the scheme upon his
attention without in any probability revealing that she had come to him
at the solicitation of Maurice.

The Advocate spoke to her with frankness and out of the depths of his
heart. He professed an ardent attachment to her family, a profound
reverence for the virtues, sacrifices, and achievements of her lamented
husband, and a warm desire to do everything to further the interests of
the son who had proved himself so worthy of his parentage.

But he proved to her that Maurice, in seeking the sovereignty, was
seeking his ruin. The Hollanders, he said, liked to be persuaded and not
forced. Having triumphantly shaken off the yoke of a powerful king, they
would scarcely consent now to accept the rule of any personal sovereign.
The desire to save themselves from the claws of Spain had led them
formerly to offer the dominion over them to various potentates. Now that
they had achieved peace and independence and were delivered from the
fears of Spanish ferocity and French intrigue, they shuddered at the
dangers from royal hands out of which they had at last escaped. He
believed that they would be capable of tearing in pieces any one who
might make the desired proposition. After all, he urged, Maurice was a
hundred times more fortunate as he was than if he should succeed in
desires so opposed to his own good. This splendour of sovereignty was a
false glare which would lead him to a precipice. He had now the power of
a sovereign without the envy which ever followed it. Having essentially
such power, he ought, like his father, to despise an empty name, which
would only make him hated. For it was well known that William the Silent
had only yielded to much solicitation, agreeing to accept that which then
seemed desirable for the country's good but to him was more than
indifferent.

Maurice was captain-general and admiral-general of five provinces. He
appointed to governments and to all military office. He had a share of
appointment to the magistracies. He had the same advantages and the same
authority as had been enjoyed in the Netherlands by the ancient sovereign
counts, by the dukes of Burgundy, by Emperor Charles V. himself.

Every one now was in favour of increasing his pensions, his salaries, his
material splendour. Should he succeed in seizing the sovereignty, men
would envy him even to the ribbands of his pages' and his lackeys' shoes.
He turned to the annals of Holland and showed the Princess that there had
hardly been a sovereign count against whom his subjects had not revolted,
marching generally into the very courtyard of the palace at the Hague in
order to take his life.

Convinced by this reasoning, Louise de Coligny had at once changed her
mind, and subsequently besought her stepson to give up a project sure to
be fatal to his welfare, his peace of mind, and the good of the country.
Maurice listened to her coldly, gave little heed to the Advocate's logic,
and hated him in his heart from that day forth.

The Princess remained loyal to Barneveld to the last.

Thus the foundation was laid of that terrible enmity which, inflamed by
theological passion, was to convert the period of peace into a hell, to
rend the Provinces asunder when they had most need of repose, and to lead
to tragical results for ever to be deplored. Already in 1607 Francis
Aerssens had said that the two had become so embroiled and things had
gone so far that one or the other would have to leave the country. He
permitted also the ridiculous statement to be made in his house at Paris,
that Henry IV. believed the Advocate to have become Spanish, and had
declared that Prince Maurice would do well to have him put into a sack
and thrown into the sea.

His life had been regularly divided into two halves, the campaigning
season and the period of winter quarters. In the one his business, and
his talk was of camps, marches, sieges, and battles only. In the other he
was devoted to his stud, to tennis, to mathematical and mechanical
inventions, and to chess, of which he was passionately fond, and which he
did not play at all well. A Gascon captain serving in the States' army
was his habitual antagonist in that game, and, although the stakes were
but a crown a game, derived a steady income out of his gains, which were
more than equal to his pay. The Prince was sulky when he lost, sitting,
when the candles were burned out and bed-time had arrived, with his hat
pulled over his brows, without bidding his guest good night, and leaving
him to find his way out as he best could; and, on the contrary, radiant
with delight when successful, calling for valets to light the departing
captain through the corridor, and accompanying him to the door of the
apartment himself. That warrior was accordingly too shrewd not to allow
his great adversary as fair a share of triumph as was consistent with
maintaining the frugal income on which he reckoned.

He had small love for the pleasures of the table, but was promiscuous and
unlicensed in his amours. He was methodical in his household
arrangements, and rather stingy than liberal in money matters. He
personally read all his letters, accounts, despatches, and other
documents trivial or important, but wrote few letters with his own hand,
so that, unlike his illustrious father's correspondence, there is little
that is characteristic to be found in his own. He was plain but not
shabby in attire, and was always dressed in exactly the same style,
wearing doublet and hose of brown woollen, a silk under vest, a short
cloak lined with velvet, a little plaited ruff on his neck, and very
loose boots. He ridiculed the smart French officers who, to show their
fine legs, were wont to wear such tight boots as made them perspire to
get into them, and maintained, in precept and practice, that a man should
be able to jump into his boots and mount and ride at a moment's notice.
The only ornaments he indulged in, except, of course, on state occasions,
were a golden hilt to his famous sword, and a rope of diamonds tied
around his felt hat.

He was now in the full flower of his strength and his fame, in his
forty-second year, and of a noble and martial presence. The face,
although unquestionably handsome, offered a sharp contrast within itself;
the upper half all intellect, the lower quite sensual. Fair hair growing
thin, but hardly tinged with grey, a bright, cheerful, and thoughtful
forehead, large hazel eyes within a singularly large orbit of brow; a
straight, thin, slightly aquiline, well-cut nose--such features were at
open variance with the broad, thick-lipped, sensual mouth, the heavy
pendant jowl, the sparse beard on the glistening cheek, and the
moleskin-like moustachio and chin tuft. Still, upon the whole, it was a
face and figure which gave the world assurance of a man and a commander
of men. Power and intelligence were stamped upon him from his birth.

Barneveld was tall and majestic of presence, with large quadrangular
face, austere, blue eyes looking authority and command, a vast forehead,
and a grizzled beard. Of fluent and convincing eloquence with tongue and
pen, having the power of saying much in few words, he cared much more for
the substance than the graces of speech or composition. This tendency was
not ill exemplified in a note of his written on a sheet of questions
addressed to him by a States' ambassador about to start on an important
mission, but a novice in his business, the answers to which questions
were to serve for his diplomatic instructions.

"Item and principally," wrote the Envoy, "to request of M. de Barneveld a
formulary or copy of the best, soundest, wisest, and best couched
despatches done by several preceding ambassadors in order to regulate
myself accordingly for the greater service of the Province and for my
uttermost reputation."

The Advocate's answer, scrawled in his nearly illegible hand, was--

"Unnecessary. The truth in shortest about matters of importance shall be
taken for good style."

With great love of power, which he was conscious of exerting with ease to
himself and for the good of the public, he had little personal vanity,
and not the smallest ambition of authorship. Many volumes might be
collected out of the vast accumulation of his writings now mouldering and
forgotten in archives. Had the language in which they are written become
a world's language, they would be worthy of attentive study, as
containing noble illustrations of the history and politics of his age,
with theories and sentiments often far in advance of his age. But he
cared not for style. "The truth in shortest about matters of importance"
was enough for him; but the world in general, and especially the world of
posterity, cares much for style. The vehicle is often prized more than
the freight. The name of Barneveld is fast fading out of men's memory.
The fame of his pupil and companion in fortune and misfortune, Hugo
Grotius, is ever green. But Grotius was essentially an author rather than
a statesman: he wrote for the world and posterity with all the love,
pride, and charm of the devotee of literature, and he composed his
noblest works in a language which is ever living because it is dead. Some
of his writings, epochmaking when they first appeared, are text-books
still familiar in every cultivated household on earth. Yet Barneveld was
vastly his superior in practical statesmanship, in law, in the science of
government, and above all in force of character, while certainly not his
equal in theology, nor making any pretensions to poetry. Although a ripe
scholar, he rarely wrote in Latin, and not often in French. His ambition
was to do his work thoroughly according to his view of duty, and to ask
God's blessing upon it without craving overmuch the applause of men.

Such were the two men, the soldier and the statesman. Would the Republic,
fortunate enough to possess two such magnificent and widely contrasted
capacities, be wise enough to keep them in its service, each
supplementing the other, and the two combining in a perfect whole?

Or was the great law of the Discords of the World, as potent as that
other principle of Universal Harmony and planetary motion which an
illustrious contemporary--that Wurtemberg astronomer, once a soldier of
the fierce Alva, now the half-starved astrologer of the brain-sick
Rudolph--was at that moment discovering, after "God had waited six
thousand years for him to do it," to prevail for the misery of the
Republic and shame of Europe? Time was to show.

The new state had forced itself into the family of sovereignties somewhat
to the displeasure of most of the Lord's anointed. Rebellious and
republican, it necessarily excited the jealousy of long-established and
hereditary governments.

The King of Spain had not formally acknowledged the independence of the
United Provinces. He had treated with them as free, and there was
supposed to be much virtue in the conjunction. But their sovereign
independence was virtually recognized by the world. Great nations had
entered into public and diplomatic relations and conventions with them,
and their agents at foreign courts were now dignified with the rank and
title of ambassadors.

The Spanish king had likewise refused to them the concession of the right
of navigation and commerce in the East Indies, but it was a matter of
notoriety that the absence of the word India, suppressed as it was in the
treaty, implied an immense triumph on the part of the States, and that
their flourishing and daily increasing commerce in the farthest East and
the imperial establishments already rising there were cause of envy and
jealousy not to Spain alone, but to friendly powers.

Yet the government of Great Britain affected to regard them as something
less than a sovereign state. Although Elizabeth had refused the
sovereignty once proffered to her, although James had united with Henry
IV. in guaranteeing the treaty just concluded between the States and
Spain, that monarch had the wonderful conception that the Republic was in
some sort a province of his own, because he still held the cautionary
towns in pledge for the loans granted by his predecessor. His agents at
Constantinople were instructed to represent the new state as unworthy to
accredit its envoys as those of an independent power. The Provinces were
represented as a collection of audacious rebels, a piratical scum of the
sea. But the Sultan knew his interests better than to incur the enmity of
this rising maritime power. The Dutch envoy declaring that he would
sooner throw himself into the Bosphorus than remain to be treated with
less consideration than that accorded to the ministers of all great
powers, the remonstrances of envious colleagues were hushed, and Haga was
received with all due honours.

Even at the court of the best friend of the Republic, the French king,
men looked coldly at the upstart commonwealth. Francis Aerssens, the keen
and accomplished minister of the States, resident in Paris for many
years, was received as ambassador after the truce with all the ceremonial
befitting the highest rank in the diplomatic service; yet Henry could not
yet persuade himself to look upon the power accrediting him as a
thoroughly organized commonwealth.

The English ambassador asked the King if he meant to continue his aid and
assistance to the States during the truce. "Yes," answered Henry.

"And a few years beyond it?"

"No. I do not wish to offend the King of Spain from mere gaiety of
heart."

"But they are free," replied the Ambassador; "the King of Spain could
have no cause for offence."

"They are free," said the King, "but not sovereign."--"Judge then," wrote
Aerssens to Barneveld, "how we shall be with the King of Spain at the end
of our term when our best friends make this distinction among themselves
to our disadvantage. They insist on making a difference between liberty
and sovereignty; considering liberty as a mean term between servitude and
sovereignty."

"You would do well," continued the Dutch ambassador, "to use the word
'sovereignty' on all occasions instead of 'liberty.'" The hint was
significant and the advice sound.

The haughty republic of Venice, too, with its "golden Book" and its
pedigree of a thousand years, looked askance at the republic of yesterday
rising like herself out of lagunes and sand banks, and affecting to place
herself side by side with emperors, kings, and the lion of St. Mark. But
the all-accomplished council of that most serene commonwealth had far too
much insight and too wide experience in political combinations to make
the blunder of yielding to this aristocratic sentiment.

The natural enemy of the Pope, of Spain, of Austria, must of necessity be
the friend of Venice, and it was soon thought highly desirable to
intimate half officially that a legation from the States-General to the
Queen of the Adriatic, announcing the conclusion of the Twelve Years'
Truce, would be extremely well received.

The hint was given by the Venetian ambassador at Paris to Francis
Aerssens, who instantly recommended van der Myle, son-in-law of
Barneveld, as a proper personage to be entrusted with this important
mission. At this moment an open breach had almost occurred between Spain
and Venice, and the Spanish ambassador at Paris, Don Pedro de Toledo,
naturally very irate with Holland, Venice, and even with France, was
vehement in his demonstrations. The arrogant Spaniard had for some time
been employed in an attempt to negotiate a double marriage between the
Dauphin and the eldest daughter of Philip III., and between the eldest
son of that king and the Princess Elizabeth of France. An indispensable
but secret condition of this negotiation was the absolute renunciation by
France of its alliance and friendly relations with the United Provinces.
The project was in truth a hostile measure aimed directly at the life of
the Republic. Henry held firm however, and Don Pedro was about to depart
malcontent, his mission having totally failed. He chanced, when going to
his audience of leave-taking, after the arrival of his successor, Don
Inigo de Cardenas, to meet the Venetian ambassador, Antonio Foscarini. An
altercation took place between them, during which the Spaniard poured out
his wrath so vehemently, calling his colleague with neat alliteration "a
poltroon, a pantaloon, and a pig," that Henry heard him.

What Signor Antonio replied has not been preserved, but it is stated that
he was first to seek a reconciliation, not liking, he said, Spanish
assassinations.

Meantime the double marriage project was for a season at least suspended,
and the alliance between the two republics went forwards. Van der Myle,
appointed ambassador to Venice, soon afterwards arrived in Paris, where
he made a very favourable impression, and was highly lauded by Aerssens
in his daily correspondence with Barneveld. No portentous shadow of
future and fatal discord between those statesmen fell upon the cheerful
scene. Before the year closed, he arrived at his post, and was received
with great distinction, despite the obstacles thrown in his way by Spain
and other powers; the ambassador of France itself, de Champigny, having
privately urged that he ought to be placed on the same footing with the
envoys of Savoy and of Florence.

Van der Myle at starting committed the trifling fault of styling the
States-General "most illustrious" (illustrissimi) instead of "most
serene," the title by which Venice designated herself.

The fault was at once remedied, however, Priuli the Doge seating the
Dutch ambassador on his right hand at his solemn reception, and giving
directions that van der Myle should be addressed as Excellency, his post
being assigned him directly after his seniors, the ambassadors of Pope,
Emperor, and kings. The same precedence was settled in Paris, while
Aerssens, who did not consider himself placed in a position of greater
usefulness by his formal installation as ambassador, received private
intimation from Henry, with whom he was on terms of great confidence and
intimacy, that he should have private access to the King as frequently
and as in formally as before. The theory that the ambassador,
representing the personality of his sovereign, may visit the monarch to
whom he is accredited, without ceremony and at his own convenience, was
as rarely carried into practice in the sixteenth century as in the
nineteenth, while on the other hand Aerssens, as the private and
confidential agent of a friendly but not publicly recognized
commonwealth, had been for many years in almost daily personal
communication with the King.

It is also important to note that the modern fallacy according to which
republics being impersonal should not be represented by ambassadors had
not appeared in that important epoch in diplomatic history. On the
contrary, the two great republics of the age, Holland and Venice,
vindicated for themselves, with as much dignity and reason as success,
their right to the highest diplomatic honours.

The distinction was substantial not shadowy; those haughty commonwealths
not considering it advantageous or decorous that their representatives
should for want of proper official designations be ranked on great
ceremonial occasions with the ministers of petty Italian principalities
or of the three hundred infinitesimal sovereignties of Germany.

It was the advice of the French king especially, who knew politics and
the world as well as any man, that the envoys of the Republic which he
befriended and which stood now on the threshold of its official and
national existence, should assert themselves at every court with the
self-reliance and courtesy becoming the functionaries of a great power.
That those ministers were second to the representatives of no other
European state in capacity and accomplishment was a fact well known to
all who had dealings with them, for the States required in their
diplomatic representatives knowledge of history and international law,
modern languages, and the classics, as well as familiarity with political
customs and social courtesies; the breeding of gentlemen in short, and
the accomplishments of scholars. It is both a literary enjoyment and a
means of historical and political instruction to read after the lapse of
centuries their reports and despatches. They worthily compare as works of
art with those diplomatic masterpieces the letters and 'Relazioni' of the
Venetian ambassadors; and it is well known that the earlier and some of
the most important treatises on public and international law ever written
are from the pens of Hollanders, who indeed may be said to have invented
that science.'

The Republic having thus steadily shouldered its way into the family of
nations was soon called upon to perform a prominent part in the world's
affairs. More than in our own epoch there was a close political
commingling of such independent states as held sympathetic views on the
great questions agitating Europe. The policy of isolation so wisely and
successfully carried out by our own trans-Atlantic commonwealth was
impossible for the Dutch republic, born as it was of a great religious
schism, and with its narrow territory wedged between the chief political
organizations of Christendom. Moreover the same jealousy on the part of
established powers which threw so many obstacles in its path to
recognized sovereignty existed in the highest degree between its two
sponsors and allies, France and England, in regard to their respective
relations to the new state.

"If ever there was an obliged people," said Henry's secretary of state,
Villeroy, to Aerssens, "then it is you Netherlanders to his Majesty. He
has converted your war into peace, and has never abandoned you. It is for
you now to show your affection and gratitude."

In the time of Elizabeth, and now in that of her successor, there was
scarcely a day in which the envoys of the States were not reminded of the
immense load of favour from England under which they tottered, and of the
greater sincerity and value of English friendship over that of France.

Sully often spoke to Aerssens on the subject in even stronger language,
deeming himself the chief protector and guardian angel of the Republic,
to whom they were bound by ties of eternal gratitude. "But if the
States," he said, "should think of caressing the King of England more
than him, or even of treating him on an equality with his Majesty, Henry
would be very much affronted. He did not mean that they should neglect
the friendship of the King of Britain, but that they should cultivate it
after and in subordination to his own, for they might be sure that James
held all things indifferent, their ruin or their conservation, while his
Majesty had always manifested the contrary both by his counsels and by
the constant furnishing of supplies."

Henry of France and Navarre--soldier, statesman, wit, above all a man and
every inch a king--brimful of human vices, foibles, and humours, and
endowed with those high qualities of genius which enabled him to mould
events and men by his unscrupulous and audacious determination to conform
to the spirit of his times which no man better understood than himself,
had ever been in such close relations with the Netherlands as to seem in
some sort their sovereign.

James Stuart, emerging from the school of Buchanan and the atmosphere of
Calvinism in which he had been bred, now reigned in those more sunny and
liberal regions where Elizabeth so long had ruled. Finding himself at
once, after years of theological study, face to face with a foreign
commonwealth and a momentous epoch, in which politics were so commingled
with divinity as to offer daily the most puzzling problems, the royal
pedant hugged himself at beholding so conspicuous a field for his
talents.

To turn a throne into a pulpit, and amaze mankind with his learning, was
an ambition most sweet to gratify. The Calvinist of Scotland now
proclaimed his deadly hatred of Puritans in England and Holland, and
denounced the Netherlanders as a pack of rebels whom it always pleased
him to irritate, and over whom he too claimed, through the possession of
the cautionary towns, a kind of sovereignty. Instinctively feeling that
in the rough and unlovely husk of Puritanism was enclosed the germ of a
wider human liberty than then existed, he was determined to give battle
to it with his tongue, his pen, with everything but his sword.

Doubtless the States had received most invaluable assistance from both
France and England, but the sovereigns of those countries were too apt to
forget that it was their own battles, as well as those of the Hollanders,
that had been fought in Flanders and Brabant. But for the alliance and
subsidies of the faithful States, Henry would not so soon have ascended
the throne of his ancestors, while it was matter of history that the
Spanish government had for years been steadily endeavouring to subjugate
England not so much for the value of the conquest in itself as for a
stepping-stone to the recovery of the revolted Netherlands.

For the dividing line of nations or at least of national alliances was a
frontier not of language but of faith. Germany was but a geographical
expression. The union of Protestantism, subscribed by a large proportion
of its three hundred and seven sovereigns, ran zigzag through the
country, a majority probably of the people at that moment being opposed
to the Roman Church.

It has often been considered amazing that Protestantism having
accomplished so much should have fallen backwards so soon, and yielded
almost undisputed sway in vast regions to the long dominant church. But
in truth there is nothing surprising about it. Catholicism was and
remained a unit, while its opponents were eventually broken up into
hundreds of warring and politically impotent organizations. Religious
faith became distorted into a weapon for selfish and greedy territorial
aggrandizement in the hands of Protestant princes. "Cujus regio ejus
religio" was the taunt hurled in the face of the imploring Calvinists of
France and the Low Countries by the arrogant Lutherans of Germany. Such a
sword smote the principle of religious freedom and mutual toleration into
the dust, and rendered them comparatively weak in the conflict with the
ancient and splendidly organized church.

The Huguenots of France, notwithstanding the protection grudgingly
afforded them by their former chieftain, were dejected and discomfited by
his apostasy, and Henry, placed in a fearfully false position, was an
object of suspicion to both friends and foes. In England it is difficult
to say whether a Jesuit or a Puritan was accounted the more noxious
animal by the dominant party.

In the United Provinces perhaps one half the population was either openly
or secretly attached to the ancient church, while among the Protestant
portion a dire and tragic convulsion was about to break forth, which for
a time at least was to render Remonstrants and Contra-Remonstrants more
fiercely opposed to each other than to Papists.

The doctrine of predestination in its sternest and strictest sense had
long been the prevailing one in the Reformed Church of the revolted
Netherlands, as in those of Scotland, France, Geneva, and the Palatinate.
No doubt up to the period of the truce a majority had acquiesced in that
dogma and its results, although there had always been many preachers to
advocate publicly a milder creed. It was not until the appointment of
Jacob Arminius to the professorship of theology at Leyden, in the place
of Francis Junius, in the year 1603, that a danger of schism in the
Church, seemed impending. Then rose the great Gomarus in his wrath, and
with all the powers of splendid eloquence, profound learning, and the
intense bigotry of conviction, denounced the horrible heresy. Conferences
between the two before the Court of Holland, theological tournaments
between six champions on a side, gallantly led by their respective
chieftains, followed, with the usual result of confirming both parties in
the conviction that to each alone belonged exclusively the truth.

The original influence of Arminius had however been so great that when
the preachers of Holland had been severally called on by a synod to sign
the Heidelberg Catechism, many of them refused. Here was open heresy and
revolt. It was time for the true church to vindicate its authority. The
great war with Spain had been made, so it was urged and honestly
believed, not against the Inquisition, not to prevent Netherlanders from
being burned and buried alive by the old true church, not in defence of
ancient charters, constitutions, and privileges--the precious result of
centuries of popular resistance to despotic force--not to maintain an
amount of civil liberty and local self-government larger in extent than
any then existing in the world, not to assert equality of religion for
all men, but simply to establish the true religion, the one church, the
only possible creed; the creed and church of Calvin.

It is perfectly certain that the living fire which glowed in the veins of
those hot gospellers had added intense enthusiasm to the war spirit
throughout that immense struggle. It is quite possible that without that
enthusiasm the war might not have been carried on to its successful end.
But it is equally certain that Catholics, Lutherans, Baptists, and
devotees of many other creeds, had taken part in the conflict in defence
both of hearth and altar, and that without that aid the independence of
the Provinces would never have been secured.

Yet before the war was ended the arrogance of the Reformed priesthood had
begun to dig a chasm. Men who with William the Silent and Barneveld had
indulged in the vision of religious equality as a possible result of so
much fighting against the Holy Inquisition were perhaps to be
disappointed.

Preachers under the influence of the gentle Arminius having dared to
refuse signing the Creed were to be dealt with. It was time to pass from
censure to action.

Heresy must be trampled down. The churches called for a national synod,
and they did this as by divine right. "My Lords the States-General must
observe," they said, "that this assembly now demanded is not a human
institution but an ordinance of the Holy Ghost in its community, not
depending upon any man's authority, but proceeding from God to the
community." They complained that the true church was allowed to act only
through the civil government, and was thus placed at a disadvantage
compared even with Catholics and other sects, whose proceedings were
winked at. "Thus the true church suffered from its apparent and public
freedom, and hostile sects gained by secret connivance."

A crisis was fast approaching. The one church claimed infallibility and
superiority to the civil power. The Holy Ghost was placed in direct,
ostentatious opposition to My Lords the States-General. It was for
Netherlanders to decide whether, after having shaken off the Holy
Inquisition, and subjected the old true church to the public authority,
they were now to submit to the imperious claims of the new true church.

There were hundreds of links connecting the Church with the State. In
that day a divorce between the two was hardly possible or conceivable.
The system of Congregationalism so successfully put into practice soon
afterwards in the wilderness of New England, and to which so much of
American freedom political as well as religious is due, was not easy to
adopt in an old country like the Netherlands. Splendid churches and
cathedrals, the legal possession of which would be contended for by rival
sects, could scarcely be replaced by temporary structures of lath and
plaster, or by humble back parlours of mechanics' shops. There were
questions of property of complicated nature. Not only the states and the
communities claimed in rivalry the ownership of church property, but many
private families could show ancient advowsons and other claims to present
or to patronize, derived from imperial or ducal charters.

So long as there could be liberty of opinion within the Church upon
points not necessarily vital, open schism could be avoided, by which the
cause of Protestantism throughout Europe must be weakened, while at the
same time subordination of the priesthood to the civil authority would be
maintained. But if the Holy Ghost, through the assembled clergy, were to
dictate an iron formulary to which all must conform, to make laws for
church government which every citizen must obey, and to appoint preachers
and school-masters from whom alone old and young could receive
illumination and instruction religious or lay, a theocracy would be
established which no enlightened statesman could tolerate.

The States-General agreed to the synod, but imposed a condition that
there should be a revision of Creed and Catechism. This was thundered
down with one blast. The condition implied a possibility that the vile
heresy of Arminius might be correct. An unconditional synod was demanded.
The Heidelberg Creed and Netherland Catechism were sacred, infallible,
not to be touched. The answer of the government, through the mouth of
Barneveld, was that "to My Lords the States-General as the foster-fathers
and protectors of the churches every right belonged."

Thus far the States-General under the leadership of the Advocate were
unanimous. The victory remained with State against Church. But very soon
after the truce had been established, and men had liberty to devote
themselves to peaceful pursuits, the ecclesiastical trumpet again sounded
far and wide, and contending priests and laymen rushed madly to the fray.
The Remonstrance and Contra-Remonstrance, and the appointment of Conrad
Vorstius, a more abominable heretic than Arminius, to the vacant chair of
Arminius--a step which drove Gomarus and the Gomarites to frenzy,
although Gomarus and Vorstius remained private and intimate friends to
the last--are matters briefly to be mentioned on a later page.

Thus to the four chief actors in the politico-religious drama, soon to be
enacted as an interlude to an eighty years' war, were assigned parts at
first sight inconsistent with their private convictions. The King of
France, who had often abjured his religion, and was now the best of
Catholics, was denounced ferociously in every Catholic pulpit in
Christendom as secretly an apostate again, and the open protector of
heretics and rebels. But the cheerful Henry troubled himself less than he
perhaps had cause to do with these thunderblasts. Besides, as we shall
soon see, he had other objects political and personal to sway his
opinions.

James the ex-Calvinist, crypto-Arminian, pseudo-Papist, and avowed
Puritan hater, was girding on his armour to annihilate Arminians and to
defend and protect Puritans in Holland, while swearing that in England he
would pepper them and harry them and hang them and that he would even
like to bury them alive.

Barneveld, who turned his eyes, as much as in such an inflammatory age it
was possible, from subtle points of theology, and relied on his
great-grandfather's motto of humility, "Nil scire tutissima fides" was
perhaps nearer to the dogma of the dominant Reformed Church than he knew,
although always the consistent and strenuous champion of the civil
authority over Church as well as State.

Maurice was no theologian. He was a steady churchgoer, and his favorite
divine, the preacher at his court chapel, was none other than
Uytenbogaert. The very man who was instantly to be the champion of the
Arminians, the author of the Remonstrance, the counsellor and comrade of
Barneveld and Grotius, was now sneered at by the Gomarites as the "Court
Trumpeter." The preacher was not destined to change his opinions. Perhaps
the Prince might alter. But Maurice then paid no heed to the great point
at issue, about which all the Netherlanders were to take each other by
the throat--absolute predestination. He knew that the Advocate had
refused to listen to his stepmother's suggestion as to his obtaining the
sovereignty. "He knew nothing of predestination," he was wont to say,
"whether it was green or whether it was blue. He only knew that his pipe
and the Advocate's were not likely to make music together." This much of
predestination he did know, that if the Advocate and his friends were to
come to open conflict with the Prince of Orange-Nassau, the conqueror of
Nieuwpoort, it was predestined to go hard with the Advocate and his
friends.

The theological quibble did not interest him much, and he was apt to
blunder about it.

"Well, preacher," said he one day to Albert Huttenus, who had come to him
to intercede for a deserter condemned to be hanged, "are you one of those
Arminians who believe that one child is born to salvation and another to
damnation?"

Huttenus, amazed to the utmost at the extraordinary question, replied,
"Your Excellency will be graciously pleased to observe that this is not
the opinion of those whom one calls by the hateful name of Arminians, but
the opinion of their adversaries."

"Well, preacher," rejoined Maurice, "don't you think I know better?" And
turning to Count Lewis William, Stadholder of Friesland, who was present,
standing by the hearth with his hand on a copper ring of the
chimneypiece, he cried,

"Which is right, cousin, the preacher or I?"

"No, cousin," answered Count Lewis, "you are in the wrong."

Thus to the Catholic League organized throughout Europe in solid and
consistent phalanx was opposed the Great Protestant Union, ardent and
enthusiastic in detail, but undisciplined, disobedient, and inharmonious
as a whole.

The great principle, not of religious toleration, which is a phrase of
insult, but of religious equality, which is the natural right of mankind,
was to be evolved after a lapse of, additional centuries out of the
elemental conflict which had already lasted so long. Still later was the
total divorce of State and Church to be achieved as the final
consummation of the great revolution. Meantime it was almost inevitable
that the privileged and richly endowed church, with ecclesiastical armies
and arsenals vastly superior to anything which its antagonist could
improvise, should more than hold its own.

At the outset of the epoch which now occupies our attention, Europe was
in a state of exhaustion and longing for repose. Spain had submitted to
the humiliation of a treaty of truce with its rebellious subjects which
was substantially a recognition of their independence. Nothing could be
more deplorable than the internal condition of the country which claimed
to be mistress of the world and still aspired to universal monarchy.

It had made peace because it could no longer furnish funds for the war.
The French ambassador, Barante, returning from Madrid, informed his
sovereign that he had often seen officers in the army prostrating
themselves on their knees in the streets before their sovereign as he
went to mass, and imploring him for payment of their salaries, or at
least an alms to keep them from starving, and always imploring in vain.

The King, who was less than a cipher, had neither capacity to feel
emotion, nor intelligence to comprehend the most insignificant affair of
state. Moreover the means were wanting to him even had he been disposed
to grant assistance. The terrible Duke of Lerma was still his inexorably
lord and master, and the secretary of that powerful personage, who kept
an open shop for the sale of offices of state both high and low, took
care that all the proceeds should flow into the coffers of the Duke and
his own lap instead of the royal exchequer.

In France both king and people declared themselves disgusted with war.
Sully disapproved of the treaty just concluded between Spain and the
Netherlands, feeling sure that the captious and equivocal clauses
contained in it would be interpreted to the disadvantage of the Republic
and of the Reformed religion whenever Spain felt herself strong enough to
make the attempt. He was especially anxious that the States should make
no concessions in regard to the exercise of the Catholic worship within
their territory, believing that by so doing they would compromise their
political independence besides endangering the cause of Protestantism
everywhere. A great pressure was put upon Sully that moment by the King
to change his religion.

"You will all be inevitably ruined if you make concessions in this
regard," said he to Aerssens. "Take example by me. I should be utterly
undone if I had listened to any overture on this subject."

Nevertheless it was the opinion of the astute and caustic envoy that the
Duke would be forced to yield at last. The Pope was making great efforts
to gain him, and thus to bring about the extirpation of Protestantism in
France. And the King, at that time much under the influence of the
Jesuits, had almost set his heart on the conversion. Aerssens insinuated
that Sully was dreading a minute examination into the affairs of his
administration of the finances--a groundless calumny--and would be thus
forced to comply. Other enemies suggested that nothing would effect this
much desired apostasy but the office of Constable of France, which it was
certain would never be bestowed on him.

At any rate it was very certain that Henry at this period was bent on
peace.

"Make your account," said Aerssens to Barneveld, as the time for signing
the truce drew nigh, "on this indubitable foundation that the King is
determined against war, whatever pretences he may make. His bellicose
demeanour has been assumed only to help forward our treaty, which he
would never have favoured, and ought never to have favoured, if he had
not been too much in love with peace. This is a very important secret if
we manage it discreetly, and a very dangerous one if our enemies discover
it."

Sully would have much preferred that the States should stand out for a
peace rather than for a truce, and believed it might have been obtained
if the King had not begun the matter so feebly, and if he had let it be
understood that he would join his arms to those of the Provinces in case
of rupture.

He warned the States very strenuously that the Pope, and the King of
Spain, and a host of enemies open and covert, were doing their host to
injure them at the French court. They would find little hindrance in this
course if the Republic did not show its teeth, and especially if it did
not stiffly oppose all encroachments of the Roman religion, without even
showing any deference to the King in this regard, who was much importuned
on the subject.

He advised the States to improve the interval of truce by restoring order
to their finances and so arranging their affairs that on the resumption
of hostilities, if come they must, their friends might be encouraged to
help them, by the exhibition of thorough vigour on their part.

France then, although utterly indisposed for war at that moment, was
thoroughly to be relied on as a friend and in case of need an ally, so
long as it was governed by its present policy. There was but one king
left in Europe since the death of Elizabeth of England.

But Henry was now on the abhorred threshold of old age which he
obstinately refused to cross.

There is something almost pathetic, in spite of the censure which much of
his private life at this period provokes, in the isolation which now
seemed his lot.

Deceived and hated by his wife and his mistresses, who were conspiring
with each other and with his ministers, not only against his policy but
against his life; with a vile Italian adventurer, dishonouring his
household, entirely dominating the queen, counteracting the royal
measures, secretly corresponding, by assumed authority, with Spain, in
direct violation of the King's instructions to his ambassadors, and
gorging himself with wealth and offices at the expense of everything
respectable in France; surrounded by a pack of malignant and greedy
nobles, who begrudged him his fame, his authority, his independence;
without a home, and almost without a friend, the Most Christian King in
these latter days led hardly as merry a life as when fighting years long
for his crown, at the head of his Gascon chivalry, the beloved chieftain
of Huguenots.

Of the triumvirate then constituting his council, Villeroy, Sillery, and
Sully, the two first were ancient Leaguers, and more devoted at heart to
Philip of Spain than to Henry of France and Navarre.

Both silent, laborious, plodding, plotting functionaries, thriftily
gathering riches; skilled in routine and adepts at intrigue; steady
self-seekers, and faithful to office in which their lives had passed,
they might be relied on at any emergency to take part against their
master, if to ruin would prove more profitable than to serve him.

There was one man who was truer to Henry than Henry had been to himself.
The haughty, defiant, austere grandee, brave soldier, sagacious
statesman, thrifty financier, against whom the poisoned arrows of
religious hatred, envious ambition, and petty court intrigue were daily
directed, who watched grimly over the exchequer confided to him, which
was daily growing fuller in despite of the cormorants who trembled at his
frown; hard worker, good hater, conscientious politician, who filled his
own coffers without dishonesty, and those of the state without tyranny;
unsociable, arrogant; pious, very avaricious, and inordinately vain,
Maximilian de Bethune, Duke of Sully, loved and respected Henry as no man
or woman loved and respected him. In truth, there was but one living
being for whom the Duke had greater reverence and affection than for the
King, and that was the Duke of Sully himself.

At this moment he considered himself, as indeed he was, in full
possession of his sovereign's confidence. But he was alone in this
conviction. Those about the court, men like Epernon and his creatures,
believed the great financier on the brink of perdition. Henry, always the
loosest of talkers even in regard to his best friends, had declared, on
some temporary vexation in regard to the affair between Aiguillon and
Balagny, that he would deal with the Duke as with the late Marshal de
Biron, and make him smaller than he had ever made him great: goading him
on this occasion with importunities, almost amounting to commands, that
both he and his son should forthwith change their religion or expect
instant ruin. The blow was so severe that Sully shut himself up, refused
to see anyone, and talked of retiring for good to his estates. But he
knew, and Henry knew, how indispensable he was, and the anger of the
master was as shortlived as the despair of the minister.

There was no living statesman for whom Henry had a more sincere respect
than for the Advocate of Holland. "His Majesty admires and greatly extols
your wisdom, which he judges necessary for the preservation of our State;
deeming you one of the rare and sage counsellors of the age." It is true
that this admiration was in part attributed to the singular coincidence
of Barneveld's views of policy with the King's own. Sully, on his part,
was a severe critic of that policy. He believed that better terms might
have been exacted from Spain in the late negotiations, and strongly
objected to the cavilling and equivocal language of the treaty. Rude in
pen as in speech, he expressed his mind very freely in his conversation
and correspondence with Henry in regard to leading personages and great
affairs, and made no secret of his opinions to the States' ambassador.

He showed his letters in which he had informed the King that he ought
never to have sanctioned the truce without better securities than
existed, and that the States would never have moved in any matter without
him. It would have been better to throw himself into a severe war than to
see the Republic perish. He further expressed the conviction that Henry
ought to have such authority over the Netherlands that they would embrace
blindly whatever counsel he chose to give them, even if they saw in it
their inevitable ruin; and this not so much from remembrance of
assistance rendered by him, but from the necessity in which they should
always feel of depending totally upon him.

"You may judge, therefore," concluded Aerssens, "as to how much we can
build on such foundations as these. I have been amazed at these frank
communications, for in those letters he spares neither My Lords the
States, nor his Excellency Prince Maurice, nor yourself; giving his
judgment of each of you with far too much freedom and without sufficient
knowledge."

Thus the alliance between the Netherlands and France, notwithstanding
occasional traces of caprice and flaws of personal jealousy, was on the
whole sincere, for it was founded on the surest foundation of
international friendship, the self-interest of each. Henry, although
boasting of having bought Paris with a mass, knew as well as his worst
enemy that in that bargain he had never purchased the confidence of the
ancient church, on whose bosom he had flung himself with so much dramatic
pomp. His noble position, as champion of religious toleration, was not
only unappreciated in an age in which each church and every sect
arrogated to itself a monopoly of the truth, but it was one in which he
did not himself sincerely believe.

After all, he was still the chieftain of the Protestant Union, and,
although Eldest Son of the Church, was the bitter antagonist of the
League and the sworn foe to the House of Austria. He was walking through
pitfalls with a crowd of invisible but relentless foes dogging his every
footstep. In his household or without were daily visions of dagger and
bowl, and he felt himself marching to his doom. How could the man on whom
the heretic and rebellious Hollanders and the Protestant princes of
Germany relied as on their saviour escape the unutterable wrath and the
patient vengeance of a power that never forgave?

In England the jealousy of the Republic and of France as co-guardian and
protector of the Republic was even greater than in France. Though placed
by circumstances in the position of ally to the Netherlands and enemy to
Spain, James hated the Netherlands and adored Spain. His first thought on
escaping the general destruction to which the Gunpowder Plot was to have
involved himself and family and all the principal personages of the realm
seems to have been to exculpate Spain from participation in the crime.
His next was to deliver a sermon to Parliament, exonerating the Catholics
and going out of his way to stigmatize the Puritans as entertaining
doctrines which should be punished with fire. As the Puritans had
certainly not been accused of complicity with Guy Fawkes or Garnet, this
portion of the discourse was at least superfluous. But James loathed
nothing so much as a Puritan. A Catholic at heart, he would have been the
warmest ally of the League had he only been permitted to be Pope of Great
Britain. He hated and feared a Jesuit, not for his religious doctrines,
for with these he sympathized, but for his political creed. He liked not
that either Roman Pontiff or British Presbyterian should abridge his
heaven-born prerogative. The doctrine of Papal superiority to temporal
sovereigns was as odious to him as Puritan rebellion to the hierarchy of
which he was the chief. Moreover, in his hostility to both Papists and
Presbyterians, there was much of professional rivalry. Having been
deprived by the accident of birth of his true position as theological
professor, he lost no opportunity of turning his throne into a pulpit and
his sceptre into a controversial pen.

Henry of France, who rarely concealed his contempt for Master Jacques, as
he called him, said to the English ambassador, on receiving from him one
of the King's books, and being asked what he thought of it--"It is not
the business of us kings to write, but to fight. Everybody should mind
his own business, but it is the vice of most men to wish to appear
learned in matters of which they are ignorant."

The flatterers of James found their account in pandering to his
sacerdotal and royal vanity. "I have always believed," said the Lord
Chancellor, after hearing the King argue with and browbeat a Presbyterian
deputation, "that the high-priesthood and royalty ought to be united, but
I never witnessed the actual junction till now, after hearing the learned
discourse of your Majesty." Archbishop Whitgift, grovelling still lower,
declared his conviction that James, in the observations he had deigned to
make, had been directly inspired by the Holy Ghost.

Nothing could be more illogical and incoherent with each other than his
theological and political opinions. He imagined himself a defender of the
Protestant faith, while hating Holland and fawning on the House of
Austria.

In England he favoured Arminianism, because the Anglican Church
recognized for its head the temporal chief of the State. In Holland he
vehemently denounced the Arminians, indecently persecuting their
preachers and statesmen, who were contending for exactly the same
principle--the supremacy of State over Church. He sentenced Bartholomew
Legate to be burned alive in Smithfield as a blasphemous heretic, and did
his best to compel the States of Holland to take the life of Professor
Vorstius of Leyden. He persecuted the Presbyterians in England as
furiously as he defended them in Holland. He drove Bradford and Carver
into the New England wilderness, and applauded Gomarus and Walaeus and
the other famous leaders of the Presbyterian party in the Netherlands
with all his soul and strength.

He united with the French king in negotiations for Netherland
independence, while denouncing the Provinces as guilty of criminal
rebellion against their lawful sovereign.

"He pretends," said Jeannin, "to assist in bringing about the peace, and
nevertheless does his best openly to prevent it."

Richardot declared that the firmness of the King of Spain proceeded
entirely from reliance on the promise of James that there should be no
acknowledgment in the treaty of the liberty of the States. Henry wrote to
Jeannin that he knew very well "what that was capable of, but that he
should not be kept awake by anything he could do."

As a king he spent his reign--so much of it as could be spared from
gourmandizing, drunkenness, dalliance with handsome minions of his own
sex, and theological pursuits--in rescuing the Crown from dependence on
Parliament; in straining to the utmost the royal prerogative; in
substituting proclamations for statutes; in doing everything in his
power, in short, to smooth the path for his successor to the scaffold. As
father of a family he consecrated many years of his life to the wondrous
delusion of the Spanish marriages.

The Gunpowder Plot seemed to have inspired him with an insane desire for
that alliance, and few things in history are more amazing than the
persistency with which he pursued the scheme, until the pursuit became
not only ridiculous, but impossible.

With such a man, frivolous, pedantic, conceited, and licentious, the
earnest statesmen of Holland were forced into close alliance. It is
pathetic to see men like Barneveld and Hugo Grotius obliged, on great
occasions of state, to use the language of respect and affection to one
by whom they were hated, and whom they thoroughly despised.

But turning away from France, it was in vain for them to look for kings
or men either among friends or foes. In Germany religious dissensions
were gradually ripening into open war, and it would be difficult to
imagine a more hopelessly incompetent ruler than the man who was
nominally chief of the Holy Roman Realm. Yet the distracted Rudolph was
quite as much an emperor as the chaos over which he was supposed to
preside was an empire. Perhaps the very worst polity ever devised by
human perverseness was the system under which the great German race was
then writhing and groaning. A mad world with a lunatic to govern it; a
democracy of many princes, little and big, fighting amongst each other,
and falling into daily changing combinations as some masterly or
mischievous hand whirled the kaleidoscope; drinking Rhenish by hogsheads,
and beer by the tun; robbing churches, dictating creeds to their
subjects, and breaking all the commandments themselves; a people at the
bottom dimly striving towards religious freedom and political life out of
abject social, ecclesiastical, and political serfdom, and perhaps even
then dumbly feeling within its veins, with that prophetic instinct which
never abandons great races, a far distant and magnificent Future of
national unity and Imperial splendour, the very reverse of the confusion
which was then the hideous Present; an Imperial family at top with many
heads and slender brains; a band of brothers and cousins wrangling,
intriguing, tripping up each others' heels, and unlucky Rudolph, in his
Hradschin, looking out of window over the peerless Prague, spread out in
its beauteous landscape of hill and dale, darkling forest, dizzy cliffs,
and rushing river, at his feet, feebly cursing the unhappy city for its
ingratitude to an invisible and impotent sovereign; his excellent brother
Matthias meanwhile marauding through the realms and taking one crown
after another from his poor bald head.

It would be difficult to depict anything more precisely what an emperor
in those portentous times should not be. He collected works of art of
many kinds--pictures, statues, gems. He passed his days in his galleries
contemplating in solitary grandeur these treasures, or in his stables,
admiring a numerous stud of horses which he never drove or rode.
Ambassadors and ministers of state disguised themselves as grooms and
stable-boys to obtain accidental glimpses of a sovereign who rarely
granted audiences. His nights were passed in star-gazing with Tycho de
Brake, or with that illustrious Suabian whose name is one of the great
lights and treasures of the world. But it was not to study the laws of
planetary motion nor to fathom mysteries of divine harmony that the
monarch stood with Kepler in the observatory. The influence of countless
worlds upon the destiny of one who, by capricious accident, if accident
ever exists in history, had been entrusted with the destiny of so large a
portion of one little world; the horoscope, not of the Universe, but of
himself; such were the limited purposes with which the Kaiser looked upon
the constellations.

For the Catholic Rudolph had received the Protestant Kepler, driven from
Tubingen because Lutheran doctors, knowing from Holy Writ that the sun
had stood still in Ajalon, had denounced his theory of planetary motion.
His mother had just escaped being burned as a witch, and the world owes a
debt of gratitude to the Emperor for protecting the astrologer, when
enlightened theologians might, perhaps, have hanged the astronomer.

A red-faced, heavy fowled, bald-headed, somewhat goggle-eyed old
gentleman, Rudolph did his best to lead the life of a hermit, and escape
the cares of royalty. Timid by temperament, yet liable to fits of
uncontrollable anger, he broke his furniture to pieces when irritated,
and threw dishes that displeased him in his butler's face, but left
affairs of state mainly to his valet, who earned many a penny by selling
the Imperial signature.

He had just signed the famous "Majestatsbrief," by which he granted vast
privileges to the Protestants of Bohemia, and had bitten the pen to
pieces in a paroxysm of anger, after dimly comprehending the extent of
the concessions which he had made.

There were hundreds of sovereign states over all of which floated the
shadowy and impalpable authority of an Imperial crown scarcely fixed on
the head of any one of the rival brethren and cousins; there was a
confederation of Protestants, with the keen-sighted and ambitious
Christian of Anhalt acting as its chief, and dreaming of the Bohemian
crown; there was the just-born Catholic League, with the calm,
far-seeing, and egotistical rather than self-seeking Maximilian at its
head; each combination extending over the whole country, stamped with
imbecility of action from its birth, and perverted and hampered by
inevitable jealousies. In addition to all these furrows ploughed by the
very genius of discord throughout the unhappy land was the wild and
secret intrigue with which Leopold, Archduke and Bishop, dreaming also of
the crown of Wenzel, was about to tear its surface as deeply as he dared.

Thus constituted were the leading powers of Europe in the earlier part of
1609--the year in which a peaceful period seemed to have begun. To those
who saw the entangled interests of individuals, and the conflict of
theological dogmas and religious and political intrigue which furnished
so much material out of which wide-reaching schemes of personal ambition
could be spun, it must have been obvious that the interval of truce was
necessarily but a brief interlude between two tragedies.

It seemed the very mockery of Fate that, almost at the very instant when
after two years' painful negotiation a truce had been made, the signal
for universal discord should be sounded. One day in the early summer of
1609, Henry IV. came to the Royal Arsenal, the residence of Sully,
accompanied by Zamet and another of his intimate companions. He asked for
the Duke and was told that he was busy in his study. "Of course," said
the King, turning to his followers, "I dare say you expected to be told
that he was out shooting, or with the ladies, or at the barber's. But who
works like Sully? Tell him," he said, "to come to the balcony in his
garden, where he and I are not accustomed to be silent."

As soon as Sully appeared, the King observed: "Well; here the Duke of
Cleve is dead, and has left everybody his heir."

It was true enough, and the inheritance was of vital importance to the
world.

It was an apple of discord thrown directly between the two rival camps
into which Christendom was divided. The Duchies of Cleve, Berg, and
Julich, and the Counties and Lordships of Mark, Ravensberg, and
Ravenstein, formed a triangle, political and geographical, closely wedged
between Catholicism and Protestantism, and between France, the United
Provinces, Belgium, and Germany. Should it fall into Catholic hands, the
Netherlands were lost, trampled upon in every corner, hedged in on all
sides, with the House of Austria governing the Rhine, the Meuse, and the
Scheldt. It was vital to them to exclude the Empire from the great
historic river which seemed destined to form the perpetual frontier of
jealous powers and rival creeds.

Should it fall into heretic hands, the States were vastly strengthened,
the Archduke Albert isolated and cut off from the protection of Spain and
of the Empire. France, although Catholic, was the ally of Holland and the
secret but well known enemy of the House of Austria. It was inevitable
that the king of that country, the only living statesman that wore a
crown, should be appealed to by all parties and should find himself in
the proud but dangerous position of arbiter of Europe.

In this emergency he relied upon himself and on two men besides,
Maximilian de Bethune and John of Barneveld. The conference between the
King and Sully and between both and Francis Aerssens, ambassador of the
States, were of almost daily occurrence. The minute details given in the
adroit diplomatist's correspondence indicate at every stage the extreme
deference paid by Henry to the opinion of Holland's Advocate and the
confidence reposed by him in the resources and the courage of the
Republic.

All the world was claiming the heritage of the duchies.

It was only strange that an event which could not be long deferred and
the consequences of which were soon to be so grave, the death of the Duke
of Cleve, should at last burst like a bomb-shell on the council tables of
the sovereigns and statesmen of Europe. That mischievous madman John
William died childless in the spring of 1609. His sister Sibylla, an
ancient and malignant spinster, had governed him and his possessions
except in his lucid intervals. The mass of the population over which he
ruled being Protestant, while the reigning family and the chief nobles
were of the ancient faith, it was natural that the Catholic party under,
the lead of Maximilian of Bavaria should deem it all-important that there
should be direct issue to that family. Otherwise the inheritance on his
death would probably pass to Protestant princes.

The first wife provided for him was a beautiful princess; Jacobea of
Baden. The Pope blessed the nuptials, and sent the bride a golden rose,
but the union was sterile and unhappy. The Duke, who was in the habit of
careering through his palace in full armour, slashing at and wounding
anyone that came in his way, was at last locked up. The hapless Jacobea,
accused by Sibylla of witchcraft and other crimes possible and
impossible, was thrown into prison. Two years long the devilish malignity
of the sister-in-law was exercised upon her victim, who, as it is
related, was not allowed natural sleep during all that period, being at
every hour awakened by command of Sibylla. At last the Duchess was
strangled in prison. A new wife was at once provided for the lunatic,
Antonia of Lorraine. The two remained childless, and Sibylla at the age
of forty-nine took to herself a husband, the Margrave of Burgau, of the
House of Austria, the humble birth of whose mother, however, did not
allow him the rank of Archduke. Her efforts thus to provide Catholic
heirs to the rich domains of Clove proved as fruitless as her previous
attempts.

And now Duke John William had died, and the representatives of his three
dead sisters, and the living Sibylla were left to fight for the duchies.

It would be both cruel and superfluous to inflict on the reader a
historical statement of the manner in which these six small provinces
were to be united into a single state. It would be an equally sterile
task to retrace the legal arguments by which the various parties prepared
themselves to vindicate their claims, each pretender more triumphantly
than the other. The naked facts alone retain vital interest, and of these
facts the prominent one was the assertion of the Emperor that the
duchies, constituting a fief masculine, could descend to none of the
pretenders, but were at his disposal as sovereign of Germany.

On the other hand nearly all the important princes of that country sent
their agents into the duchies to look after the interests real or
imaginary which they claimed.

There were but four candidates who in reality could be considered serious
ones.

Mary Eleanor, eldest sister of the Duke, had been married in the lifetime
of their father to Albert Frederic of Brandenburg, Duke of Prussia. To
the children of this marriage was reserved the succession of the whole
property in case of the masculine line becoming extinct. Two years
afterwards the second sister, Anne, was married to Duke Philip Lewis,
Count-Palatine of Neuburg; the children of which marriage stood next in
succession to those of the eldest sister, should that become
extinguished. Four years later the third sister, Magdalen, espoused the
Duke John, Count-Palatine of Deux-Ponts; who, like Neuburg, made
resignation of rights of succession in favour of the descendants of the
Brandenburg marriage. The marriage of the youngest sister, Sibylla, with
the Margrave of Burgau has been already mentioned. It does not appear
that her brother, whose lunatic condition hardly permitted him to assure
her the dowry which had been the price of renunciation in the case of her
three elder sisters, had obtained that renunciation from her.

The claims of the childless Sibylla as well as those of the Deux-Ponts
branch were not destined to be taken into serious consideration.

The real competitors were the Emperor on the one side and the Elector of
Brandenburg and the Count-Palatine of Neuburg on the other.

It is not necessary to my purpose to say a single word as to the legal
and historical rights of the controversy. Volumes upon volumes of
forgotten lore might be consulted, and they would afford exactly as much
refreshing nutriment as would the heaps of erudition hardly ten years
old, and yet as antiquated as the title-deeds of the Pharaohs, concerning
the claims to the Duchies of Schleswig-Holstein. The fortunate house of
Brandenburg may have been right or wrong in both disputes. It is certain
that it did not lack a more potent factor in settling the political
problems of the world in the one case any more than in the other.

But on the occasion with which we are occupied it was not on the might of
his own right hand that the Elector of Brandenburg relied. Moreover, he
was dilatory in appealing to the two great powers on whose friendship he
must depend for the establishment of his claims: the United Republic and
the King of France. James of England was on the whole inclined to believe
in the rights of Brandenburg. His ambassador, however, with more
prophetic vision than perhaps the King ever dreamt--of, expressed a fear
lest Brandenburg should grow too great and one day come to the Imperial
crown.

The States openly favoured the Elector. Henry as at first disposed
towards Neuburg, but at his request Barneveld furnished a paper on the
subject, by which the King seems to have been entirely converted to the
pretensions of Brandenburg.

But the solution of the question had but little to do with the legal
claim of any man. It was instinctively felt throughout Christendom that
the great duel between the ancient church and the spirit of the
Reformation was now to be renewed upon that narrow, debateable spot.

The Emperor at once proclaimed his right to arbitrate on the succession
and to hold the territory until decision should be made; that is to say,
till the Greek Kalends. His familiar and most tricksy spirit,
Bishop-Archduke Leopold, played at once on his fears and his resentments,
against the ever encroaching, ever menacing, Protestantism of Germany,
with which he had just sealed a compact so bitterly detested.

That bold and bustling prelate, brother of the Queen of Spain and of
Ferdinand of Styria, took post from Prague in the middle of July.
Accompanied by a certain canon of the Church and disguised as his
servant, he arrived after a rapid journey before the gates of Julich,
chief city and fortress of the duchies. The governor of the place,
Nestelraed, inclined like most of the functionaries throughout the
duchies to the Catholic cause, was delighted to recognize under the
livery of the lackey the cousin and representative of the Emperor.
Leopold, who had brought but five men with him, had conquered his capital
at a blow. For while thus comfortably established as temporary governor
of the duchies he designed through the fears or folly of Rudolph to
become their sovereign lord. Strengthened by such an acquisition and
reckoning on continued assistance in men and money from Spain and the
Catholic League, he meant to sweep back to the rescue of the perishing
Rudolph, smite the Protestants of Bohemia, and achieve his appointment to
the crown of that kingdom.

The Spanish ambassador at Prague had furnished him with a handsome sum of
money for the expenses of his journey and preliminary enterprise. It
should go hard but funds should be forthcoming to support him throughout
this audacious scheme. The champion of the Church, the sovereign prince
of important provinces, the possession of which ensured conclusive
triumph to the House of Austria and to Rome--who should oppose him in his
path to Empire? Certainly not the moody Rudolph, the slippery and
unstable Matthias, the fanatic and Jesuit-ridden Ferdinand.

"Leopold in Julich," said Henry's agent in Germany, "is a ferret in a
rabbit warren."

But early in the spring and before the arrival of Leopold, the two
pretenders, John Sigismund, Elector of Brandenburg, and Philip Lewis,
Palatine of Neuburg, had made an arrangement. By the earnest advice of
Barneveld in the name of the States-General and as the result of a
general council of many Protestant princes of Germany, it had been
settled that those two should together provisionally hold and administer
the duchies until the principal affair could be amicably settled.

The possessory princes were accordingly established in Dusseldorf with
the consent of the provincial estates, in which place those bodies were
wont to assemble.

Here then was Spain in the person of Leopold quietly perched in the chief
citadel of the country, while Protestantism in the shape of the
possessory princes stood menacingly in the capital.

Hardly was the ink dry on the treaty which had suspended for twelve years
the great religious war of forty years, not yet had the ratifications
been exchanged, but the trumpet was again sounding, and the hostile
forces were once more face to face.

Leopold, knowing where his great danger lay, sent a friendly message to
the States-General, expressing the hope that they would submit to his
arrangements until the Imperial decision should be made.

The States, through the pen and brain of Barneveld, replied that they had
already recognized the rights of the possessory princes, and were
surprised that the Bishop-Archduke should oppose them. They expressed the
hope that, when better informed, he would see the validity of the Treaty
of Dortmund. "My Lords the States-General," said the Advocate, "will
protect the princes against violence and actual disturbances, and are
assured that the neighbouring kings and princes will do the same. They
trust that his Imperial Highness will not allow matters, to proceed to
extremities."

This was language not to be mistaken. It was plain that the Republic did
not intend the Emperor to decide a question of life and death to herself,
nor to permit Spain, exhausted by warfare, to achieve this annihilating
triumph by a petty intrigue.

While in reality the clue to what seemed to the outside world a
labyrinthine maze of tangled interests and passions was firmly held in
the hand of Barneveld, it was not to him nor to My Lords the
States-General that the various parties to the impending conflict applied
in the first resort.

Mankind were not yet sufficiently used to this young republic, intruding
herself among the family of kings, to defer at once to an authority which
they could not but feel.

Moreover, Henry of France was universally looked to both by friends and
foes as the probable arbiter or chief champion in the great debate. He
had originally been inclined to favour Neuberg, chiefly, so Aerssens
thought, on account of his political weakness. The States-General on the
other hand were firmly disposed for Brandenburg from the first, not only
as a strenuous supporter of the Reformation and an ancient ally of their
own always interested in their safety, but because the establishment of
the Elector on the Rhine would roll back the Empire beyond that river. As
Aerssens expressed it, they would have the Empire for a frontier, and
have no longer reason to fear the Rhine.

The King, after the representations of the States, saw good ground to
change his opinion and; becoming convinced that the Palatine had long
been coquetting with the Austrian party, soon made no secret of his
preference for Brandenburg. Subsequently Neuburg and Brandenburg fell
into a violent quarrel notwithstanding an arrangement that the Palatine
should marry the daughter of the Elector. In the heat of discussion
Brandenburg on one occasion is said to have given his intended son-in-law
a box on the ear! an argument 'ad hominem' which seems to have had the
effect of sending the Palatine into the bosom of the ancient church and
causing him to rely thenceforth upon the assistance of the League.
Meantime, however, the Condominium settled by the Treaty of Dortmund
continued in force; the third brother of Brandenburg and the eldest son
of Neuburg sharing possession and authority at Dusseldorf until a final
decision could be made.

A flock of diplomatists, professional or volunteers, openly accredited or
secret, were now flying busily about through the troubled atmosphere,
indicating the coming storm in which they revelled. The keen-sighted,
subtle, but dangerously intriguing ambassador of the Republic, Francis
Aerssens, had his hundred eyes at all the keyholes in Paris, that centre
of ceaseless combination and conspiracy, and was besides in almost daily
confidential intercourse with the King. Most patiently and minutely he
kept the Advocate informed, almost from hour to hour, of every web that
was spun, every conversation public or whispered in which important
affairs were treated anywhere and by anybody. He was all-sufficient as a
spy and intelligencer, although not entirely trustworthy as a counsellor.
Still no man on the whole could scan the present or forecast the future
more accurately than he was able to do from his advantageous position and
his long experience of affairs.

There was much general jealousy between the States and the despotic king,
who loved to be called the father of the Republic and to treat the
Hollanders as his deeply obliged and very ungrateful and miserly little
children. The India trade was a sore subject, Henry having throughout the
negotiations sought to force or wheedle the States into renouncing that
commerce at the command of Spain, because he wished to help himself to it
afterwards, and being now in the habit of secretly receiving Isaac Le
Maire and other Dutch leaders in that lucrative monopoly, who lay
disguised in Paris and in the house of Zamet--but not concealed from
Aerssens, who pledged himself to break, the neck of their enterprise--and
were planning with the King a French East India Company in opposition to
that of the Netherlands.

On the whole, however, despite these commercial intrigues which Barneveld
through the aid of Aerssens was enabled to baffle, there was much
cordiality and honest friendship between the two countries. Henry, far
from concealing his political affection for the Republic, was desirous of
receiving a special embassy of congratulation and gratitude from the
States on conclusion of the truce; not being satisfied with the warm
expressions of respect and attachment conveyed through the ordinary
diplomatic channel.

"He wishes," wrote Aerssens to the Advocate, "a public demonstration--in
order to show on a theatre to all Christendom the regard and deference of
My Lords the States for his Majesty." The Ambassador suggested that
Cornelis van der Myle, son-in-law of Barneveld, soon to be named first
envoy for Holland to the Venetian republic, might be selected as chief of
such special embassy.

"Without the instructions you gave me," wrote Aerssens, "Neuburg might
have gained his cause in this court. Brandenburg is doing himself much
injury by not soliciting the King."

"Much deference will be paid to your judgment," added the envoy, "if you
see fit to send it to his Majesty."

Meantime, although the agent of Neuburg was busily dinning in Henry's
ears the claims of the Palatine, and even urging old promises which, as
he pretended, had been made, thanks to Barneveld, he took little by his
importunity, notwithstanding that in the opinion both of Barneveld and
Villeroy his claim 'stricti-juris' was the best. But it was policy and
religious interests, not the strict letter of the law, that were likely
to prevail. Henry, while loudly asserting that he would oppose any
usurpation on the part of the Emperor or any one else against the
Condominium, privately renewed to the States assurances of his intention
to support ultimately the claims of Brandenburg, and notified them to
hold the two regiments of French infantry, which by convention they still
kept at his expense in their service, to be ready at a moment's warning
for the great enterprise which he was already planning. "You would do
well perhaps," wrote Aerssens to Barneveld, "to set forth the various
interests in regard to this succession, and of the different relations of
the claimants towards our commonwealth; but in such sort nevertheless and
so dexterously that the King may be able to understand your desires, and
on the other hand may see the respect you bear him in appearing to defer
to his choice."

Neuburg, having always neglected the States and made advances to Archduke
Albert, and being openly preferred over Brandenburg by the Austrians, who
had however no intention of eventually tolerating either, could make but
small headway at court, notwithstanding Henry's indignation that
Brandenburg had not yet made the slightest demand upon him for
assistance.

The Elector had keenly solicited the aid of the states, who were bound to
him by ancient contract on this subject, but had manifested wonderful
indifference or suspicion in regard to France. "These nonchalant
Germans," said Henry on more than one occasion, "do nothing but sleep or
drink."

It was supposed that the memory of Metz might haunt the imagination of
the Elector. That priceless citadel, fraudulently extorted by Henry II.
as a forfeit for assistance to the Elector of Saxony three quarters of a
century before, gave solemn warning to Brandenburg of what might be
exacted by a greater Henry, should success be due to his protection. It
was also thought that he had too many dangers about him at home, the
Poles especially, much stirred up by emissaries from Rome, making many
troublesome demonstrations against the Duchy of Prussia.

It was nearly midsummer before a certain Baron Donals arrived as emissary
of the Elector. He brought with him, many documents in support of the
Brandenburg claims, and was charged with excuses for the dilatoriness of
his master. Much stress was laid of course on the renunciation made by
Neuburg at the tithe of his marriage, and Henry was urged to grant his
protection to the Elector in his good rights. But thus far there were few
signs of any vigorous resolution for active measures in an affair which
could scarcely fail to lead to war.

"I believe," said Henry to the States ambassador, "that the right of
Brandenburg is indubitable, and it is better for you and for me that he
should be the man rather than Neuburg, who has always sought assistance
from the House of Austria. But he is too lazy in demanding possession. It
is the fault of the doctors by whom he is guided. This delay works in
favour of the Emperor, whose course however is less governed by any
determination of his own than by the irresolution of the princes."

Then changing the conversation, Henry asked the Ambassador whether the
daughter of de Maldere, a leading statesman of Zealand, was married or of
age to be married, and if she was rich; adding that they must make a
match between her and Barneveld's second son, then a young gentleman in
the King's service, and very much liked by him.

Two months later a regularly accredited envoy, Belin by name, arrived
from the Elector. His instructions were general. He was to thank the King
for his declarations in favour of the possessory princes, and against all
usurpation on the part of the Spanish party. Should the religious cord be
touched, he was to give assurances that no change would be made in this
regard. He was charged with loads of fine presents in yellow amber, such
as ewers, basins, tables, cups, chessboards, for the King and Queen, the
Dauphin, the Chancellor, Villeroy, Sully, Bouillon, and other eminent
personages. Beyond the distribution of these works of art and the
exchange of a few diplomatic commonplaces, nothing serious in the way of
warlike business was transacted, and Henry was a few weeks later much
amused by receiving a letter from the possessory princes coolly thrown
into the post-office, and addressed like an ordinary letter to a private
person, in which he was requested to advance them a loan of 400,000
crowns. There was a great laugh at court at a demand made like a bill of
exchange at sight upon his Majesty as if he had been a banker, especially
as there happened to be no funds of the drawers in his hands. It was
thought that a proper regard for the King's quality and the amount of the
sum demanded required that the letter should be brought at least by an
express messenger, and Henry was both diverted and indignant at these
proceedings, at the months long delay before the princes had thought
proper to make application for his protection, and then for this cool
demand for alms on a large scale as a proper beginning of their
enterprise.

Such was the languid and extremely nonchalant manner in which the early
preparations for a conflict which seemed likely to set Europe in a blaze,
and of which possibly few living men might witness the termination, were
set on foot by those most interested in the immediate question.

Chessboards in yellow amber and a post-office order for 400,000 crowns
could not go far in settling the question of the duchies in which the
great problem dividing Christendom as by an abyss was involved.

Meantime, while such were the diplomatic beginnings of the possessory
princes, the League was leaving no stone unturned to awaken Henry to a
sense of his true duty to the Church of which he was Eldest Son.

Don Pedro de Toledo's mission in regard to the Spanish marriages had
failed because Henry had spurned the condition which was unequivocally
attached to them on the part of Spain, the king's renunciation of his
alliance with the Dutch Republic, which then seemed an equivalent to its
ruin. But the treaty of truce and half-independence had been signed at
last by the States and their ancient master, and the English and French
negotiators had taken their departure, each receiving as a present for
concluding the convention 20,000 livres from the Archdukes, and 30,000
from the States-General. Henry, returning one summer's morning from the
chase and holding the Count of Soissons by one hand and Ambassador
Aerssens by the other, told them he had just received letters from Spain
by which he learned that people were marvellously rejoiced at the
conclusion of the truce. Many had regretted that its conditions were so
disadvantageous and so little honourable to the grandeur and dignity of
Spain, but to these it was replied that there were strong reasons why
Spain should consent to peace on these terms rather than not have it at
all. During the twelve years to come the King could repair his disasters
and accumulate mountains of money in order to finish the war by the
subjugation of the Provinces by force of gold.

Soissons here interrupted the King by saying that the States on their
part would finish it by force of iron.

Aerssens, like an accomplished courtier, replied they would finish it by
means of his Majesty's friendship.

The King continued by observing that the clear-sighted in Spain laughed
at these rodomontades, knowing well that it was pure exhaustion that had
compelled the King to such extremities. "I leave you to judge," said
Henry, "whether he is likely to have any courage at forty-five years of
age, having none now at thirty-two. Princes show what they have in them
of generosity and valour at the age of twenty-five or never." He said
that orders had been sent from Spain to disband all troops in the
obedient Netherlands except Spaniards and Italians, telling the Archdukes
that they must raise the money out of the country to content them. They
must pay for a war made for their benefit, said Philip. As for him he
would not furnish one maravedi.

Aerssens asked if the Archdukes would disband their troops so long as the
affair of Cleve remained unsettled. "You are very lucky," replied the
King, "that Europe is governed by such princes as you wot of. The King of
Spain thinks of nothing but tranquillity. The Archdukes will never move
except on compulsion. The Emperor, whom every one is so much afraid of in
this matter, is in such plight that one of these days, and before long,
he will be stripped of all his possessions. I have news that the
Bohemians are ready to expel him."

It was true enough that Rudolph hardly seemed a formidable personage. The
Utraquists and Bohemian Brothers, making up nearly the whole population
of the country, were just extorting religious liberty from their unlucky
master in his very palace and at the point of the knife. The envoy of
Matthias was in Paris demanding recognition of his master as King of
Hungary, and Henry did not suspect the wonderful schemes of Leopold, the
ferret in the rabbit warren of the duchies, to come to the succour of his
cousin and to get himself appointed his successor and guardian.

Nevertheless, the Emperor's name had been used to protest solemnly
against the entrance into Dusseldorf of the Margrave Ernest of
Brandenburg and Palatine Wolfgang William of Neuburg, representatives
respectively of their brother and father.

The induction was nevertheless solemnly made by the Elector-Palatine and
the Landgrave of Hesse, and joint possession solemnly taken by
Brandenburg and Neuburg in the teeth of the protest, and expressly in
order to cut short the dilatory schemes and the artifices of the Imperial
court.

Henry at once sent a corps of observation consisting of 1500 cavalry to
the Luxemburg frontier by way of Toul, Mezieres, Verdun, and Metz, to
guard against movements by the disbanded troops of the Archdukes, and
against any active demonstration against the possessory princes on the
part of the Emperor.

The 'Condominium' was formally established, and Henry stood before the
world as its protector threatening any power that should attempt
usurpation. He sent his agent Vidomacq to the Landgrave of Hesse with
instructions to do his utmost to confirm the princes of the Union in
organized resistance to the schemes of Spain, and to prevent any
interference with the Condominium.

He wrote letters to the Archdukes and to the Elector of Cologne, sternly
notifying them that he would permit no assault upon the princes, and
meant to protect them in their rights. He sent one of his most
experienced diplomatists, de Boississe, formerly ambassador in England,
to reside for a year or more in the duchies as special representative of
France, and directed him on his way thither to consult especially with
Barneveld and the States-General as to the proper means of carrying out
their joint policy either by diplomacy or, if need should be, by their
united arms.

Troops began at once to move towards the frontier to counteract the plans
of the Emperor's council and the secret levies made by Duchess Sibylla's
husband, the Margrave of Burgau. The King himself was perpetually at
Monceaux watching the movements of his cavalry towards the Luxemburg
frontier, and determined to protect the princes in their possession until
some definite decision as to the sovereignty of the duchies should be
made.

Meantime great pressure was put upon him by the opposite party. The Pope
did his best through the Nuncius at Paris directly, and through agents at
Prague, Brussels, and Madrid indirectly, to awaken the King to a sense of
the enormity of his conduct.

Being a Catholic prince, it was urged, he had no right to assist
heretics. It was an action entirely contrary to his duty as a Christian
and of his reputation as Eldest Son of the Church. Even if the right were
on the side of the princes, his Majesty would do better to strip them of
it and to clothe himself with it than to suffer the Catholic faith and
religion to receive such notable detriment in an affair likely to have
such important consequences.

Such was some of the advice given by the Pontiff. The suggestions were
subtle, for they were directed to Henry's self-interest both as champion
of the ancient church and as a possible sovereign of the very territories
in dispute. They were also likely, and were artfully so intended, to
excite suspicion of Henry's designs in the breasts of the Protestants
generally and of the possessory princes especially. Allusions indeed to
the rectification of the French border in Henry II.'s time at the expense
of Lorraine were very frequent. They probably accounted for much of the
apparent supineness and want of respect for the King of which he
complained every day and with so much bitterness.

The Pope's insinuations, however, failed to alarm him, for he had made up
his mind as to the great business of what might remain to him of life; to
humble the House of Austria and in doing so to uphold the Dutch Republic
on which he relied for his most efficient support. The situation was a
false one viewed from the traditional maxims which governed Europe. How
could the Eldest Son of the Church and the chief of an unlimited monarchy
make common cause with heretics and republicans against Spain and Rome?
That the position was as dangerous as it was illogical, there could be
but little doubt. But there was a similarity of opinion between the King
and the political chief of the Republic on the great principle which was
to illume the distant future but which had hardly then dawned upon the
present; the principle of religious equality. As he protected Protestants
in France so he meant to protect Catholics in the duchies. Apostate as he
was from the Reformed Church as he had already been from the Catholic, he
had at least risen above the paltry and insolent maxim of the princely
Protestantism of Germany: "Cujus regio ejus religio."

While refusing to tremble before the wrath of Rome or to incline his ear
to its honeyed suggestions, he sent Cardinal Joyeuse with a special
mission to explain to the Pope that while the interests of France would
not permit him to allow the Spaniard's obtaining possession of provinces
so near to her, he should take care that the Church received no detriment
and that he should insist as a price of the succour he intended for the
possessory princes that they should give ample guarantees for the liberty
of Catholic worship.

There was no doubt in the mind either of Henry or of Barneveld that the
secret blows attempted by Spain at the princes were in reality aimed at
the Republic and at himself as her ally.

While the Nuncius was making these exhortations in Paris, his colleague
from Spain was authorized to propound a scheme of settlement which did
not seem deficient in humour. At any rate Henry was much diverted with
the suggestion, which was nothing less than that the decision as to the
succession to the duchies should be left to a board of arbitration
consisting of the King of Spain, the Emperor, and the King of France. As
Henry would thus be painfully placed by himself in a hopeless minority,
the only result of the scheme would be to compel him to sanction a
decision sure to be directly the reverse of his own resolve. He was
hardly such a schoolboy in politics as to listen to the proposal except
to laugh at it.

Meantime arrived from Julich, without much parade, a quiet but somewhat
pompous gentleman named Teynagel. He had formerly belonged to the
Reformed religion, but finding it more to his taste or advantage to
become privy councillor of the Emperor, he had returned to the ancient
church. He was one of the five who had accompanied the Archduke Leopold
to Julich.

That prompt undertaking having thus far succeeded so well, the warlike
bishop had now despatched Teynagel on a roving diplomatic mission.
Ostensibly he came to persuade Henry that, by the usages and laws of the
Empire, fiefs left vacant for want of heirs male were at the disposal of
the Emperor. He expressed the hope therefore of obtaining the King's
approval of Leopold's position in Julich as temporary vicegerent of his
sovereign and cousin. The real motive of his mission, however, was
privately to ascertain whether Henry was really ready to go to war for
the protection of the possessory princes, and then, to proceed to Spain.
It required an astute politician, however, to sound all the shoals,
quicksands, and miseries through which the French government was then
steering, and to comprehend with accuracy the somewhat varying humours of
the monarch and the secret schemes of the ministers who immediately
surrounded him.

People at court laughed at Teynagel and his mission, and Henry treated
him as a crackbrained adventurer. He announced himself as envoy of the
Emperor, although he had instructions from Leopold only. He had
interviews with the Chancellor and with Villeroy, and told them that
Rudolf claimed the right of judge between the various pretenders to the
duchies. The King would not be pleased, he observed, if the King of Great
Britain should constitute himself arbiter among claimants that might make
their appearance for the crown of France; but Henry had set himself up as
umpire without being asked by any one to act in that capacity among the
princes of Germany. The Emperor, on the contrary, had been appealed to by
the Duke of Nevers, the Elector of Saxony, the Margrave of Burgau, and
other liege subjects of the Imperial crown as a matter of course and of
right. This policy of the King, if persisted in, said Teynagel, must lead
to war. Henry might begin such a war, but he would be obliged to bequeath
it to the Dauphin. He should remember that France had always been unlucky
when waging war with the Empire and with the house of Austria.'

The Chancellor and Villeroy, although in their hearts not much in love
with Henry's course, answered the emissary with arrogance equal to his
own that their king could finish the war as well as begin it, that he
confided in his strength and the justice of his cause, and that he knew
very well and esteemed very little the combined forces of Spain and the
Empire. They added that France was bound by the treaty of Vervins to
protect the princes, but they offered no proof of that rather startling
proposition.

Meantime Teynagel was busy in demonstrating that the princes of Germany
were in reality much more afraid of Henry than of the Emperor. His
military movements and deep designs excited more suspicion throughout
that country and all Europe than the quiet journey of Leopold and five
friends by post to Julich.

He had come provided with copies of the King's private letters to the
princes, and seemed fully instructed as to his most secret thoughts. For
this convenient information he was supposed to be indebted to the
revelations of Father Cotton, who was then in disgrace; having been
detected in transmitting to the General of Jesuits Henry's most sacred
confidences and confessions as to his political designs.

Fortified with this private intelligence, and having been advised by
Father Cotton to carry matters with a high hand in order to inspire the
French court with a wholesome awe, he talked boldly about the legitimate
functions of the Emperor. To interfere with them, he assured the
ministers, would lead to a long and bloody war, as neither the King nor
the Archduke Albert would permit the Emperor to be trampled upon.

Peter Pecquius, the crafty and experienced agent of the Archduke at
Paris, gave the bouncing envoy more judicious advice, however, than that
of the Jesuit, assuring him that he would spoil his whole case should he
attempt to hold such language to the King.

He was admitted to an audience of Henry at Monceaux, but found him
prepared to show his teeth as Aerssens had predicted. He treated Teynagel
as a mere madcap and, adventurer who had no right to be received as a
public minister at all, and cut short his rodomontades by assuring him
that his mind was fully made up to protect the possessory princes.
Jeannin was present at the interview, although, as Aerssens well
observed, the King required no pedagogue on such an occasion? Teynagel
soon afterwards departed malcontent to Spain, having taken little by his
abnormal legation to Henry, and being destined to find at the court of
Philip as urgent demands on that monarch for assistance to the League as
he was to make for Leopold and the House of Austria.

For the League, hardly yet thoroughly organized under the leadership of
Maximilian of Bavaria, was rather a Catholic corrival than cordial ally
of the Imperial house. It was universally suspected that Henry meant to
destroy and discrown the Habsburgs, and it lay not in the schemes of
Maximilian to suffer the whole Catholic policy to be bound to the
fortunes of that one family.

Whether or not Henry meant to commit the anachronism and blunder of
reproducing the part of Charlemagne might be doubtful. The supposed
design of Maximilian to renew the glories of the House of Wittelsbach was
equally vague. It is certain, however, that a belief in such ambitious
schemes on the part of both had been insinuated into the ears of Rudolf,
and had sunk deeply into his unsettled mind.

Scarcely had Teynagel departed than the ancient President Richardot
appeared upon the scene. "The mischievous old monkey," as he had
irreverently been characterized during the Truce negotiations, "who
showed his tail the higher he climbed," was now trembling at the thought
that all the good work he had been so laboriously accomplishing during
the past two years should be annihilated. The Archdukes, his masters,
being sincerely bent on peace, had deputed him to Henry, who, as they
believed, was determined to rekindle war. As frequently happens in such
cases, they were prepared to smooth over the rough and almost impassable
path to a cordial understanding by comfortable and cheap commonplaces
concerning the blessings of peace, and to offer friendly compromises by
which they might secure the prizes of war without the troubles and
dangers of making it.

They had been solemnly notified by Henry that he would go to war rather
than permit the House of Austria to acquire the succession to the
duchies. They now sent Richardot to say that neither the Archdukes nor
the King of Spain would interfere in the matter, and that they hoped the
King of France would not prevent the Emperor from exercising his rightful
functions of judge.

Henry, who knew that Don Baltasar de Cuniga, Spanish ambassador at the
Imperial court, had furnished Leopold, the Emperor's cousin, with 50,000
crowns to defray his first expenses in the Julich expedition, considered
that the veteran politician had come to perform a school boy's task. He
was more than ever convinced by this mission of Richardot that the
Spaniards had organized the whole scheme, and he was likely only to smile
at any propositions the President might make.

At the beginning of his interview, in which the King was quite alone,
Richardot asked if he would agree to maintain neutrality like the King of
Spain and the Archdukes, and allow the princes to settle their business
with the Emperor.

"No," said the King.

He then asked if Henry would assist them in their wrong.

"No," said the King.

He then asked if the King thought that the princes had justice on their
side, and whether, if the contrary were shown, he would change his
policy?

Henry replied that the Emperor could not be both judge and party in the
suit and that the King of Spain was plotting to usurp the provinces
through the instrumentality of his brother-in-law Leopold and under the
name of the Emperor. He would not suffer it, he said.

"Then there will be a general war," replied Richardot, "since you are
determined to assist these princes."

"Be it so," said the King.

"You are right," said the President, "for you are a great and puissant
monarch, having all the advantages that could be desired, and in case of
rupture I fear that all this immense power will be poured out over us who
are but little princes."

"Cause Leopold to retire then and leave the princes in their right," was
the reply. "You will then have nothing to fear. Are you not very unhappy
to live under those poor weak archdukes? Don't you foresee that as soon
as they die you will lose all the little you have acquired in the
obedient Netherlands during the last fifty years?"

The President had nothing to reply to this save that he had never
approved of Leopold's expedition, and that when Spaniards make mistakes
they always had recourse to their servants to repair their faults. He had
accepted this mission inconsiderately, he said, inspired by a hope to
conjure the rising storms mingled with fears as to the result which were
now justified. He regretted having come, he said.

The King shrugged his shoulders.

Richardot then suggested that Leopold might be recognized in Julich, and
the princes at Dusseldorf, or that all parties might retire until the
Emperor should give his decision.

All these combinations were flatly refused by the King, who swore that no
one of the House of Austria should ever perch in any part of those
provinces. If Leopold did not withdraw at once, war was inevitable.

He declared that he would break up everything and dare everything,
whether the possessory princes formally applied to him or not. He would
not see his friends oppressed nor allow the Spaniard by this usurpation
to put his foot on the throat of the States-General, for it was against
them that this whole scheme was directed.

To the President's complaints that the States-General had been moving
troops in Gelderland, Henry replied at once that it was done by his
command, and that they were his troops.

With this answer Richardot was fain to retire crestfallen, mortified, and
unhappy. He expressed repentance and astonishment at the result, and
protested that those peoples were happy whose princes understood affairs.
His princes were good, he said, but did not give themselves the trouble
to learn their business.

Richardot then took his departure from Paris, and very soon afterwards
from the world. He died at Arras early in September, as many thought of
chagrin at the ill success of his mission, while others ascribed it to a
surfeit of melons and peaches.

"Senectus edam maorbus est," said Aerssens with Seneca.

Henry said he could not sufficiently wonder at these last proceedings at
his court, of a man he had deemed capable and sagacious, but who had been
committing an irreparable blunder. He had never known two such
impertinent ambassadors as Don Pedro de Toledo and Richardot on this
occasion. The one had been entirely ignorant of the object of his
mission; the other had shown a vain presumption in thinking he could
drive him from his fixed purpose by a flood of words. He had accordingly
answered him on the spot without consulting his council, at which poor
Richardot had been much amazed.

And now another envoy appeared upon the scene, an ambassador coming
directly from the Emperor. Count Hohenzollern, a young man, wild, fierce,
and arrogant, scarcely twenty-three years of age, arrived in Paris on the
7th of September, with a train of forty horsemen.

De Colly, agent of the Elector-Palatine, had received an outline of his
instructions, which the Prince of Anhalt had obtained at Prague. He
informed Henry that Hohenzollern would address him thus: "You are a king.
You would not like that the Emperor should aid your subjects in
rebellion. He did not do this in the time of the League, although often
solicited to do so. You should not now sustain the princes in disobeying
the Imperial decree. Kings should unite in maintaining the authority and
majesty of each other." He would then in the Emperor's name urge the
claims of the House of Saxony to the duchies.

Henry was much pleased with this opportune communication by de Colly of
the private instructions to the Emperor's envoy, by which he was enabled
to meet the wild and fierce young man with an arrogance at least equal to
his own.

The interview was a stormy one. The King was alone in the gallery of the
Louvre, not choosing that his words and gestures should be observed. The
Envoy spoke much in the sense which de Colly had indicated; making a long
argument in favour of the Emperor's exclusive right of arbitration, and
assuring the King that the Emperor was resolved on war if interference
between himself and his subjects was persisted in. He loudly pronounced
the proceedings of the possessory princes to be utterly illegal, and
contrary to all precedent. The Emperor would maintain his authority at
all hazards, and one spark of war would set everything in a blaze within
the Empire and without.

Henry replied sternly but in general terms, and referred him for a final
answer to his council.

"What will you do," asked the Envoy, categorically, at a subsequent
interview about a month later, "to protect the princes in case the
Emperor constrains them to leave the provinces which they have unjustly
occupied?"

"There is none but God to compel me to say more than I choose to say,"
replied the King. "It is enough for you to know that I will never abandon
my friends in a just cause. The Emperor can do much for the general
peace. He is not to lend his name to cover this usurpation."

And so the concluding interview terminated in an exchange of threats
rather than with any hope of accommodation.

Hohenzollern used as high language to the ministers as to the monarch,
and received payment in the same coin. He rebuked their course not very
adroitly as being contrary to the interests of Catholicism. They were
placing the provinces in the hands of Protestants, he urged. It required
no envoy from Prague to communicate this startling fact. Friends and
foes, Villeroy and Jeannin, as well as Sully and Duplessis, knew well
enough that Henry was not taking up arms for Rome. "Sir! do you look at
the matter in that way?" cried Sully, indignantly. "The Huguenots are as
good as the Catholics. They fight like the devil!"

"The Emperor will never permit the princes to remain nor Leopold to
withdraw," said the Envoy to Jeannin.

Jeannin replied that the King was always ready to listen to reason, but
there was no use in holding language of authority to him. It was money he
would not accept.

"Fiat justitia pereat mundus," said the haggard Hohenzollern.

"Your world may perish," replied Jeannin, "but not ours. It is much
better put together."

A formal letter was then written by the King to the Emperor, in which
Henry expressed his desire to maintain peace and fraternal relations, but
notified him that if, under any pretext whatever, he should trouble the
princes in their possession, he would sustain them with all his power,
being bound thereto by treaties and by reasons of state.

This letter was committed to the care of Hohenzollern, who forthwith
departed, having received a present of 4000 crowns. His fierce, haggard
face thus vanishes for the present from our history.

The King had taken his ground, from which there was no receding. Envoys
or agents of Emperor, Pope, King of Spain, Archduke at Brussels, and
Archduke at Julich, had failed to shake his settled purpose. Yet the road
was far from smooth. He had thus far no ally but the States-General. He
could not trust James of Great Britain. Boderie came back late in the
summer from his mission to that monarch, reporting him as being
favourably inclined to Brandenburg, but hoping for an amicable settlement
in the duchies. No suggestion being made even by the sagacious James as
to the manner in which the ferret and rabbits were to come to a
compromise, Henry inferred, if it came to fighting, that the English
government would refuse assistance. James had asked Boderie in fact
whether his sovereign and the States, being the parties chiefly
interested, would be willing to fight it out without allies. He had also
sent Sir Ralph Winwood on a special mission to the Hague, to Dusseldorf,
and with letters to the Emperor, in which he expressed confidence that
Rudolph would approve the proceedings of the possessory princes. As he
could scarcely do that while loudly claiming through his official envoy
in Paris that the princes should instantly withdraw on pain of instant
war, the value of the English suggestion of an amicable compromise might
easily be deduced.

Great was the jealousy in France of this mission from England. That the
princes should ask the interference of James while neglecting, despising,
or fearing Henry, excited Henry's wrath. He was ready, and avowed his
readiness, to put on armour at once in behalf of the princes, and to
arbitrate on the destiny of Germany, but no one seemed ready to follow
his standard. No one asked him to arbitrate. The Spanish faction wheedled
and threatened by turns, in order to divert him from his purpose, while
the Protestant party held aloof, and babbled of Charlemagne and of Henry
II.

He said he did not mean to assist the princes by halves, but as became a
King of France, and the princes expressed suspicion of him, talked of the
example of Metz, and called the Emperor their very clement lord.

It was not strange that Henry was indignant and jealous. He was holding
the wolf by the ears, as he himself observed more than once. The war
could not long be delayed; yet they in whose behalf it was to be waged
treated him with a disrespect and flippancy almost amounting to scorn.

They tried to borrow money of him through the post, and neglected to send
him an ambassador. This was most decidedly putting the cart before the
oxen, so Henry said, and so thought all his friends. When they had
blockaded the road to Julich, in order to cut off Leopold's supplies,
they sent to request that the two French regiments in the States' service
might be ordered to their assistance, Archduke Albert having threatened
to open the passage by force of arms. "This is a fine stratagem," said
Aerssens, "to fling the States-General headlong into the war, and, as it
were, without knowing it."

But the States-General, under the guidance of Barneveld, were not likely
to be driven headlong by Brandenburg and Neuburg. They managed with
caution, but with perfect courage, to move side by side with Henry, and
to leave the initiative to him, while showing an unfaltering front to the
enemy. That the princes were lost, Spain and the Emperor triumphant,
unless Henry and the States should protect them with all their strength,
was as plain as a mathematical demonstration.

Yet firm as were the attitude and the language of Henry, he was thought
to be hoping to accomplish much by bluster. It was certain that the bold
and unexpected stroke of Leopold had produced much effect upon his mind,
and for a time those admitted to his intimacy saw, or thought they saw, a
decided change in his demeanour. To the world at large his language and
his demonstrations were even more vehement than they had been at the
outset of the controversy; but it was believed that there was now a
disposition to substitute threats for action. The military movements set
on foot were thought to be like the ringing of bells and firing of cannon
to dissipate a thunderstorm. Yet it was treason at court to doubt the
certainty of war. The King ordered new suits of armour, bought splendid
chargers, and gave himself all the airs of a champion rushing to a
tournament as gaily as in the earliest days of his king-errantry. He
spoke of his eager desire to break a lance with Spinola, and give a
lesson to the young volunteer who had sprung into so splendid a military
reputation, while he had been rusting, as he thought, in pacific
indolence, and envying the laurels of the comparatively youthful Maurice.
Yet those most likely to be well informed believed that nothing would
come of all this fire and fury.

The critics were wrong. There was really no doubt of Henry's sincerity,
but his isolation was terrible. There was none true to him at home but
Sully. Abroad, the States-General alone were really friendly, so far as
positive agreements existed. Above all, the intolerable tergiversations
and suspicions of those most interested, the princes in possession, and
their bickerings among themselves, hampered his movements.

Treason and malice in his cabinet and household, jealousy and fear
abroad, were working upon and undermining him like a slow fever. His
position was most pathetic, but his purpose was fixed.

James of England, who admired, envied, and hated Henry, was wont to
moralize on his character and his general unpopularity, while engaged in
negotiations with him. He complained that in the whole affair of the
truce he had sought only his particular advantage. "This is not to be
wondered at in one of his nature," said the King, "who only careth to
provide for the felicities of his present life, without any respect for
his life to come. Indeed, the consideration of his own age and the youth
of his children, the doubt of their legitimation, the strength of
competitioners, and the universal hatred borne unto him, makes him seek
all means of security for preventing of all dangers."

There were changes from day to day; hot and cold fits necessarily
resulting from the situation. As a rule, no eminent general who has had
much experience wishes to go into a new war inconsiderately and for the
mere love of war. The impatience is often on the part of the
non-combatants. Henry was no exception to the rule. He felt that the
complications then existing, the religious, political, and dynastic
elements arrayed against each other, were almost certain to be brought to
a crisis and explosion by the incident of the duchies. He felt that the
impending struggle was probably to be a desperate and a general one, but
there was no inconsistency in hoping that the show of a vigorous and
menacing attitude might suspend, defer, or entirely dissipate the
impending storm.

The appearance of vacillation on his part from day to day was hardly
deserving of the grave censure which it received, and was certainly in
the interests of humanity.

His conferences with Sully were almost daily and marked by intense
anxiety. He longed for Barneveld, and repeatedly urged that the Advocate,
laying aside all other business, would come to Paris, that they might
advise together thoroughly and face to face. It was most important that
the combination of alliances should be correctly arranged before
hostilities began, and herein lay the precise difficulty. The princes
applied formally and freely to the States-General for assistance. They
applied to the King of Great Britain. The agents of the opposite party
besieged Henry with entreaties, and, failing in those, with threats;
going off afterwards to Spain, to the Archdukes, and to other Catholic
powers in search of assistance.

The States-General professed their readiness to put an army of 15,000
foot and 3000 horse in the field for the spring campaign, so soon as they
were assured of Henry's determination for a rupture.

"I am fresh enough still," said he to their ambassador, "to lead an army
into Cleve. I shall have a cheap bargain enough of the provinces. But
these Germans do nothing but eat and sleep. They will get the profit and
assign to me the trouble. No matter, I will never suffer the
aggrandizement of the House of Austria. The States-General must disband
no troops, but hold themselves in readiness."

Secretary of State Villeroy held the same language, but it was easy to
trace beneath his plausible exterior a secret determination to traverse
the plans of his sovereign. "The Cleve affair must lead to war," he said.
"The Spaniard, considering how necessary it is for him to have a prince
there at his devotion, can never quietly suffer Brandenburg and Neuburg
to establish themselves in those territories. The support thus gained by
the States-General would cause the loss of the Spanish Netherlands."

This was the view of Henry, too, but the Secretary of State, secretly
devoted to the cause of Spain, looked upon the impending war with much
aversion.

"All that can come to his Majesty from war," he said, "is the glory of
having protected the right. Counterbalance this with the fatigue, the
expense, and the peril of a great conflict, after our long repose, and
you will find this to be buying glory too dearly."

When a Frenchman talked of buying glory too dearly, it seemed probable
that the particular kind of glory was not to his taste.

Henry had already ordered the officers, then in France, of the 4000
French infantry kept in the States' service at his expense to depart at
once to Holland, and he privately announced his intention of moving to
the frontier at the head of 30,000 men.

'Yet not only Villeroy, but the Chancellor and the Constable, while
professing opposition to the designs of Austria and friendliness to those
of Brandenburg and Neuburg, deprecated this precipitate plunge into war.
"Those most interested," they said, "refuse to move; fearing Austria,
distrusting France. They leave us the burden and danger, and hope for the
spoils themselves. We cannot play cat to their monkey. The King must hold
himself in readiness to join in the game when the real players have
shuffled and dealt the cards. It is no matter to us whether the Spaniard
or Brandenburg or anyone else gets the duchies. The States-General
require a friendly sovereign there, and ought to say how much they will
do for that result."

The Constable laughed at the whole business. Coming straight from the
Louvre, he said "there would be no serious military movement, and that
all those fine freaks would evaporate in air."

But Sully never laughed. He was quietly preparing the ways and means for
the war, and he did not intend, so far as he had influence, that France
should content herself with freaks and let Spain win the game. Alone in
the council he maintained that "France had gone too far to recede without
sacrifice of reputation."--"The King's word is engaged both within and
without," he said. "Not to follow it with deeds would be dangerous to the
kingdom. The Spaniard will think France afraid of war. We must strike a
sudden blow, either to drive the enemy away or to crush him at once.
There is no time for delay. The Netherlands must prevent the
aggrandizement of Austria or consent to their own ruin."

Thus stood the game therefore. The brother of Brandenburg and son of
Neuburg had taken possession of Dusseldorf.

The Emperor, informed of this, ordered them forthwith to decamp. He
further summoned all pretenders to the duchies to appear before him, in
person or by proxy, to make good their claims. They refused and appealed
for advice and assistance to the States-General. Barneveld, aware of the
intrigues of Spain, who disguised herself in the drapery of the Emperor,
recommended that the Estates of Cleve, Julich, Berg, Mark, Ravensberg,
and Ravenstein, should be summoned in Dusseldorf. This was done and a
resolution taken to resist any usurpation.

The King of France wrote to the Elector of Cologne, who, by directions of
Rome and by means of the Jesuits, had been active in the intrigue, that
he would not permit the princes to be disturbed.

The Archduke Leopold suddenly jumped into the chief citadel of the
country and published an edict of the Emperor. All the proceedings were
thereby nullified as illegal and against the dignity of the realm and the
princes proclaimed under ban.

A herald brought the edict and ban to the princes in full assembly. The
princes tore it to pieces on the spot. Nevertheless they were much
frightened, and many members of the Estates took themselves off; others
showing an inclination to follow.

The princes sent forth with a deputation to the Hague to consult My Lords
the States-General. The States-General sent an express messenger to
Paris. Their ambassador there sent him back a week later, with notice of
the King's determination to risk everything against everything to
preserve the rights of the princes. It was added that Henry required to
be solicited by them, in order not by volunteer succour to give cause for
distrust as to his intentions. The States-General were further apprised
by the King that his interests and theirs were so considerable in the
matter that they would probably be obliged to go into a brisk and open
war, in order to prevent the Spaniard from establishing himself in the
duchies. He advised them to notify the Archdukes in Brussels that they
would regard the truce as broken if, under pretext of maintaining the
Emperor's rights, they should molest the princes. He desired them further
to send their forces at once to the frontier of Gelderland under Prince
Maurice, without committing any overt act of hostility, but in order to
show that both the King and the States were thoroughly in earnest.

The King then sent to Archduke Albert, as well as to the Elector of
Cologne, and despatched a special envoy to the King of Great Britain.

Immediately afterwards came communications from Barneveld to Henry, with
complete adhesion to the King's plans. The States would move in exact
harmony with him, neither before him nor after him, which was precisely
what he wished. He complained bitterly to Aerssens, when he communicated
the Advocate's despatches, of the slothful and timid course of the
princes. He ascribed it to the arts of Leopold, who had written and
inspired many letters against him insinuating that he was secretly in
league and correspondence with the Emperor; that he was going to the
duchies simply in the interest of the Catholics; that he was like Henry
II. only seeking to extend the French frontier; and Leopold, by these
intrigues and falsehoods, had succeeded in filling the princes with
distrust, and they had taken umbrage at the advance of his cavalry.

Henry professed himself incapable of self-seeking or ambition. He meant
to prevent the aggrandizement of Austria, and was impatient at the
dilatoriness and distrust of the princes.

"All their enemies are rushing to the King of Spain. Let them address
themselves to the King of France," he said, "for it is we two that must
play this game."

And when at last they did send an embassy, they prefaced it by a post
letter demanding an instant loan, and with an intimation that they would
rather have his money than his presence!

Was it surprising that the King's course should seem occasionally
wavering when he found it so difficult to stir up such stagnant waters
into honourable action? Was it strange that the rude and stern Sully
should sometimes lose his patience, knowing so much and suspecting more
of the foul designs by which his master was encompassed, of the web of
conspiracy against his throne, his life, and his honour, which was daily
and hourly spinning?

"We do nothing and you do nothing," he said one day to Aerssens. "You are
too soft, and we are too cowardly. I believe that we shall spoil
everything, after all. I always suspect these sudden determinations of
ours. They are of bad augury. We usually founder at last when we set off
so fiercely at first. There are words enough an every side, but there
will be few deeds. There is nothing to be got out of the King of Great
Britain, and the King of Spain will end by securing these provinces for
himself by a treaty." Sully knew better than this, but he did not care to
let even the Dutch envoy know, as yet, the immense preparations he had
been making for the coming campaign.

The envoys of the possessory princes, the Counts Solms, Colonel Pallandt,
and Dr. Steyntgen, took their departure, after it had been arranged that
final measures should be concerted at the general congress of the German
Protestants to be held early in the ensuing year at Hall, in Suabia.

At that convention de Boississe would make himself heard on the part of
France, and the representatives of the States-General, of Venice, and
Savoy, would also be present.

Meantime the secret conferences between Henry and his superintendent of
finances and virtual prime minister were held almost every day. Scarcely
an afternoon passed that the King did not make his appearance at the
Arsenal, Sully's residence, and walk up and down the garden with him for
hours, discussing the great project of which his brain was full. This
great project was to crush for ever the power of the Austrian house; to
drive Spain back into her own limits, putting an end to her projects for
universal monarchy; and taking the Imperial crown from the House of
Habsburg. By thus breaking up the mighty cousinship which, with the aid
of Rome, overshadowed Germany and the two peninsulas, besides governing
the greater part of both the Indies, he meant to bring France into the
preponderant position over Christendom which he believed to be her due.

It was necessary, he thought, for the continued existence of the Dutch
commonwealth that the opportunity should be taken once for all, now that
a glorious captain commanded its armies and a statesman unrivalled for
experience, insight, and patriotism controlled its politics and its
diplomacy, to drive the Spaniard out of the Netherlands.

The Cleve question, properly and vigorously handled, presented exactly
the long desired opportunity for carrying out these vast designs.

The plan of assault upon Spanish power was to be threefold. The King
himself at the head of 35,000 men, supported by Prince Maurice and the
States' forces amounting to at least 14,000, would move to the Rhine and
seize the duchies. The Duke de la Force would command the army of the
Pyrenees and act in concert with the Moors of Spain, who roused to frenzy
by their expulsion from the kingdom could be relied on for a revolt or at
least a most vigorous diversion. Thirdly, a treaty with the Duke of Savoy
by which Henry accorded his daughter to the Duke's eldest son, the Prince
of Piedmont, a gift of 100,000 crowns, and a monthly pension during the
war of 50,000 crowns a month, was secretly concluded.

Early in the spring the Duke was to take the field with at least 10,000
foot and 1200 horse, supported by a French army of 12,000 to 15,000 men
under the experienced Marshal de Lesdiguieres. These forces were to
operate against the Duchy of Milan with the intention of driving the
Spaniards out of that rich possession, which the Duke of Savoy claimed
for himself, and of assuring to Henry the dictatorship of Italy. With the
cordial alliance of Venice, and by playing off the mutual jealousies of
the petty Italian princes, like Florence, Mantua, Montserrat, and others,
against each other and against the Pope, it did not seem doubtful to
Sully that the result would be easily accomplished. He distinctly urged
the wish that the King should content himself with political influence,
with the splendid position of holding all Italy dependent upon his will
and guidance, but without annexing a particle of territory to his own
crown.

It was Henry's intention, however, to help himself to the Duchy of Savoy,
and to the magnificent city and port of Genoa as a reward to himself for
the assistance, matrimonial alliance, and aggrandizement which he was
about to bestow upon Charles Emmanuel. Sully strenuously opposed these
self-seeking views on the part of his sovereign, however, constantly
placing before him the far nobler aim of controlling the destinies of
Christendom, of curbing what tended to become omnipotent, of raising up
and protecting that which had been abased, of holding the balance of
empire with just and steady hand in preference to the more vulgar and
commonplace ambition of annexing a province or two to the realms of
France.

It is true that these virtuous homilies, so often preached by him against
territorial aggrandizement in one direction, did not prevent him from
indulging in very extensive visions of it in another. But the dreams
pointed to the east rather than to the south. It was Sully's policy to
swallow a portion not of Italy but of Germany. He persuaded his master
that the possessory princes, if placed by the help of France in the
heritage which they claimed, would hardly be able to maintain themselves
against the dangers which surrounded them except by a direct dependence
upon France. In the end the position would become an impossible one, and
it would be easy after the war was over to indemnify Brandenburg with
money and with private property in the heart of France for example, and
obtain the cession of those most coveted provinces between the Meuse and
the Weser to the King. "What an advantage for France," whispered Sully,
"to unite to its power so important a part of Germany. For it cannot be
denied that by accepting the succour given by the King now those princes
oblige themselves to ask for help in the future in order to preserve
their new acquisition. Thus your Majesty will make them pay for it very
dearly."

Thus the very virtuous self-denial in regard to the Duke of Savoy did not
prevent a secret but well developed ambition at the expense of the
Elector of Brandenburg. For after all it was well enough known that the
Elector was the really important and serious candidate. Henry knew full
well that Neuburg was depending on the Austrians and the Catholics, and
that the claims of Saxony were only put forward by the Emperor in order
to confuse the princes and excite mutual distrust.

The King's conferences with the great financier were most confidential,
and Sully was as secret as the grave. But Henry never could keep a secret
even when it concerned his most important interests, and nothing would
serve him but he must often babble of his great projects even to their
minutest details in presence of courtiers and counsellors whom in his
heart he knew to be devoted to Spain and in receipt of pensions from her
king. He would boast to them of the blows by which he meant to demolish
Spain and the whole house of Austria, so that there should be no longer
danger to be feared from that source to the tranquillity and happiness of
Europe, and he would do this so openly and in presence of those who, as
he knew, were perpetually setting traps for him and endeavouring to
discover his deepest secrets as to make Sully's hair stand on end. The
faithful minister would pluck his master by the cloak at times, and the
King, with the adroitness which never forsook him when he chose to employ
it, would contrive to extricate himself from a dilemma and pause at the
brink of tremendous disclosures.--[Memoires de Sully, t. vii. p.
324.]--But Sully could not be always at his side, nor were the Nuncius or
Don Inigo de Cardenas or their confidential agents and spies always
absent. Enough was known of the general plan, while as to the probability
of its coming into immediate execution, perhaps the enemies of the King
were often not more puzzled than his friends.

But what the Spanish ambassador did not know, nor the Nuncius, nor even
the friendly Aerssens, was the vast amount of supplies which had been
prepared for the coming conflict by the finance minister. Henry did not
know it himself. "The war will turn on France as on a pivot," said Sully;
"it remains to be seen if we have supplies and money enough. I will
engage if the war is not to last more than three years and you require no
more than 40,000 men at a time that I will show you munitions and
ammunition and artillery and the like to such an extent that you will
say, 'It is enough.'

"As to money--"

"How much money have I got?" asked the King; "a dozen millions?"

"A little more than that," answered the Minister.

"Fourteen millions?"

"More still."

"Sixteen?" continued the King.

"More yet," said Sully.

And so the King went on adding two millions at each question until thirty
millions were reached, and when the question as to this sum was likewise
answered in the affirmative, he jumped from his chair, hugged his
minister around the neck, and kissed him on both cheeks.

"I want no more than that," he cried.

Sully answered by assuring him that he had prepared a report showing a
reserve of forty millions on which he might draw for his war expenses,
without in the least degree infringing on the regular budget for ordinary
expenses.

The King was in a transport of delight, and would have been capable of
telling the story on the spot to the Nuncius had he met him that
afternoon, which fortunately did not occur.

But of all men in Europe after the faithful Sully, Henry most desired to
see and confer daily and secretly with Barneveld. He insisted vehemently
that, neglecting all other business, he should come forthwith to Paris at
the head of the special embassy which it had been agreed that the States
should send. No living statesman, he said, could compare to Holland's
Advocate in sagacity, insight, breadth of view, knowledge of mankind and
of great affairs, and none he knew was more sincerely attached to his
person or felt more keenly the value of the French alliance.

With him he indeed communicated almost daily through the medium of
Aerssens, who was in constant receipt of most elaborate instructions from
Barneveld, but he wished to confer with him face to face, so that there
would be no necessity of delay in sending back for instructions,
limitations, and explanation. No man knew better than the King did that
so far as foreign affairs were concerned the States-General were simply
Barneveld.

On the 22nd January the States' ambassador had a long and secret
interview with the King.' He informed him that the Prince of Anhalt had
been assured by Barneveld that the possessory princes would be fully
supported in their position by the States, and that the special deputies
of Archduke Albert, whose presence at the Hague made Henry uneasy, as he
regarded them as perpetual spies, had been dismissed. Henry expressed his
gratification. They are there, he said, entirely in the interest of
Leopold, who has just received 500,000 crowns from the King of Spain, and
is to have that sum annually, and they are only sent to watch all your
proceedings in regard to Cleve.

The King then fervently pressed the Ambassador to urge Barneveld's coming
to Paris with the least possible delay. He signified his delight with
Barneveld's answer to Anhalt, who thus fortified would be able to do good
service at the assembly at Hall. He had expected nothing else from
Barneveld's sagacity, from his appreciation of the needs of Christendom,
and from his affection for himself. He told the Ambassador that he was
anxiously waiting for the Advocate in order to consult with him as to all
the details of the war. The affair of Cleve, he said, was too special a
cause. A more universal one was wanted. The King preferred to begin with
Luxemburg, attacking Charlemont or Namur, while the States ought at the
same time to besiege Venlo, with the intention afterwards of uniting with
the King in laying siege to Maestricht.

He was strong enough, he said, against all the world, but he still
preferred to invite all princes interested to join him in putting down
the ambitious and growing power of Spain. Cleve was a plausible pretext,
but the true cause, he said, should be found in the general safety of
Christendom.

Boississe had been sent to the German princes to ascertain whether and to
what extent they would assist the King. He supposed that once they found
him engaged in actual warfare in Luxemburg, they would get rid of their
jealousy and panic fears of him and his designs. He expected them to
furnish at least as large a force as he would supply as a contingent.

For it was understood that Anhalt as generalissimo of the German forces
would command a certain contingent of French troops, while the main army
of the King would be led by himself in person.

Henry expressed the conviction that the King of Spain would be taken by
surprise finding himself attacked in three places and by three armies at
once, he believing that the King of France was entirely devoted to his
pleasures and altogether too old for warlike pursuits, while the States,
just emerging from the misery of their long and cruel conflict, would be
surely unwilling to plunge headlong into a great and bloody war.

Henry inferred this, he said, from observing the rude and brutal manner
in which the soldiers in the Spanish Netherlands were now treated. It
seemed, he said, as if the Archdukes thought they had no further need of
them, or as if a stamp of the foot could raise new armies out of the
earth. "My design," continued the King, "is the more likely to succeed as
the King of Spain, being a mere gosling and a valet of the Duke of Lerma,
will find himself stripped of all his resources and at his wits' end;
unexpectedly embarrassed as he will be on the Italian side, where we
shall be threatening to cut the jugular vein of his pretended universal
monarchy."

He intimated that there was no great cause for anxiety in regard to the
Catholic League just formed at Wurzburg. He doubted whether the King of
Spain would join it, and he had learned that the Elector of Cologne was
making very little progress in obtaining the Emperor's adhesion. As to
this point the King had probably not yet thoroughly understood that the
Bavarian League was intended to keep clear of the House of Habsburg,
Maximilian not being willing to identify the success of German
Catholicism with the fortunes of that family.

Henry expressed the opinion that the King of Spain, that is to say, his
counsellors, meant to make use of the Emperor's name while securing all
the profit, and that Rudolph quite understood their game, while Matthias
was sure to make use of this opportunity, supported by the Protestants of
Bohemia, Austria, and Moravia, to strip the Emperor of the last shred of
Empire.

The King was anxious that the States should send a special embassy at
once to the King of Great Britain. His ambassador, de la Boderie, gave
little encouragement of assistance from that quarter, but it was at least
desirable to secure his neutrality. "'Tis a prince too much devoted to
repose," said Henry, "to be likely to help in this war, but at least he
must not be allowed to traverse our great designs. He will probably
refuse the league offensive and defensive which I have proposed to him,
but he must be got, if possible, to pledge himself to the defensive. I
mean to assemble my army on the frontier, as if to move upon Julich, and
then suddenly sweep down on the Meuse, where, sustained by the States'
army and that of the princes, I will strike my blows and finish my
enterprise before our adversary has got wind of what is coming. We must
embark James in the enterprise if we can, but at any rate we must take
measures to prevent his spoiling it."

Henry assured the Envoy that no one would know anything of the great
undertaking but by its effect; that no one could possibly talk about it
with any knowledge except himself, Sully, Villeroy, Barneveld, and
Aerssens. With them alone he conferred confidentially, and he doubted not
that the States would embrace this opportunity to have done for ever with
the Spaniards. He should take the field in person, he said, and with
several powerful armies would sweep the enemy away from the Meuse, and
after obtaining control of that river would quietly take possession of
the sea-coast of Flanders, shut up Archduke Albert between the States and
the French, who would thus join hands and unite their frontiers.

Again the King expressed his anxiety for Barneveld's coming, and directed
the Ambassador to urge it, and to communicate to him the conversation
which had just taken place. He much preferred, he said, a general war. He
expressed doubts as to the Prince of Anhalt's capacity as chief in the
Cleve expedition, and confessed that being jealous of his own reputation
he did not like to commit his contingent of troops to the care of a
stranger and one so new to his trade. The shame would fall on himself,
not on Anhalt in case of any disaster. Therefore, to avoid all petty
jealousies and inconveniences of that nature by which the enterprise
might be ruined, it was best to make out of this small affair a great
one, and the King signified his hope that the Advocate would take this
view of the case and give him his support. He had plenty of grounds of
war himself, and the States had as good cause of hostilities in the
rupture of the truce by the usurpation attempted by Leopold with the
assistance of Spain and in the name of the Emperor. He hoped, he said,
that the States would receive no more deputations from Archduke Albert,
but decide to settle everything at the point of the sword. The moment was
propitious, and, if neglected, might never return. Marquis Spinola was
about to make a journey to Spain on various matters of business. On his
return, Henry said, he meant to make him prisoner as a hostage for the
Prince of Conde, whom the Archdukes were harbouring and detaining. This
would be the pretext, he said, but the object would be to deprive the
Archdukes of any military chief, and thus to throw them into utter
confusion. Count van den Berg would never submit to the authority of Don
Luis de Velasco, nor Velasco to his, and not a man could come from Spain
or Italy, for the passages would all be controlled by France.

Fortunately for the King's reputation, Spinola's journey was deferred, so
that this notable plan for disposing of the great captain fell to the
ground.

Henry agreed to leave the two French regiments and the two companies of
cavalry in the States' service as usual, but stipulated in certain
contingencies for their use.

Passing to another matter concerning which there had been so much
jealousy on the part of the States, the formation of the French East
India Company--to organize which undertaking Le Roy and Isaac Le Maire of
Amsterdam had been living disguised in the house of Henry's famous
companion, the financier Zamet at Paris--the King said that Barneveld
ought not to envy him a participation in the great profits of this
business.

Nothing would be done without consulting him after his arrival in Paris.
He would discuss the matter privately with him, he said, knowing that
Barneveld was a great personage, but however obstinate he might be, he
felt sure that he would always yield to reason. On the other hand the
King expressed his willingness to submit to the Advocate's opinions if
they should seem the more just.

On leaving the King the Ambassador had an interview with Sully, who again
expressed his great anxiety for the arrival of Barneveld, and his hopes
that he might come with unlimited powers, so that the great secret might
not leak out through constant referring of matters back to the Provinces.

After rendering to the Advocate a detailed account of this remarkable
conversation, Aerssens concluded with an intimation that perhaps his own
opinion might be desired as to the meaning of all those movements
developing themselves so suddenly and on so many sides.

"I will say," he observed, "exactly what the poet sings of the army of
ants--

     'Hi motus animorum atque haec certamina tanta
     Pulveris exigui jactu contacts quiescunt.'

If the Prince of Conde comes back, we shall be more plausible than ever.
If he does not come back, perhaps the consideration of the future will
sweep us onwards. All have their special views, and M. de Villeroy more
warmly than all the rest."

     ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

     Abstinence from inquisition into consciences and private parlour
     Allowed the demon of religious hatred to enter into its body
     Behead, torture, burn alive, and bury alive all heretics
     Christian sympathy and a small assistance not being sufficient
     Contained within itself the germs of a larger liberty
     Could not be both judge and party in the suit
     Covered now with the satirical dust of centuries
     Deadly hatred of Puritans in England and Holland
     Doctrine of predestination in its sternest and strictest sense
     Emperor of Japan addressed him as his brother monarch
     Estimating his character and judging his judges
     Everybody should mind his own business
     He was a sincere bigot
     Impatience is often on the part of the non-combatants
     Intense bigotry of conviction
     International friendship, the self-interest of each
     It was the true religion, and there was none other
     James of England, who admired, envied, and hated Henry
     Jealousy, that potent principle
     Language which is ever living because it is dead
     More fiercely opposed to each other than to Papists
     None but God to compel me to say more than I choose to say
     Power the poison of which it is so difficult to resist
     Presents of considerable sums of money to the negotiators made
     Princes show what they have in them at twenty-five or never
     Putting the cart before the oxen
     Religious toleration, which is a phrase of insult
     Secure the prizes of war without the troubles and dangers
     Senectus edam maorbus est
     So much in advance of his time as to favor religious equality
     The Catholic League and the Protestant Union
     The truth in shortest about matters of importance
     The vehicle is often prized more than the freight
     There was but one king in Europe, Henry the Bearnese
     There was no use in holding language of authority to him
     Thirty Years' War tread on the heels of the forty years
     Unimaginable outrage as the most legitimate industry
     Wish to appear learned in matters of which they are ignorant




THE LIFE AND DEATH of JOHN OF BARNEVELD, ADVOCATE OF HOLLAND

WITH A VIEW OF THE PRIMARY CAUSES AND MOVEMENTS OF THE THIRTY YEARS' WAR

By John Lothrop Motley, D.C.L., LL.D.

The Life and Death of John of Barneveld, v2, 1609-10




CHAPTER II.

   Passion of Henry IV. for Margaret de Montmorency--Her Marriage with
   the Prince of Conde--Their Departure for the Country-Their Flight to
   the Netherlands-Rage of the King--Intrigues of Spain--Reception of
   the Prince and Princess of Conde by the Archdukes at Brussels--
   Splendid Entertainments by Spinola--Attempts of the King to bring
   the Fugitives back--Mission of De Coeuvres to Brussels--Difficult
   Position of the Republic--Vast but secret Preparations for War.

"If the Prince of Conde comes back." What had the Prince of Conde, his
comings and his goings, to do with this vast enterprise?

It is time to point to the golden thread of most fantastic passion which
runs throughout this dark and eventful history.

One evening in the beginning of the year which had just come to its close
there was to be a splendid fancy ball at the Louvre in the course of
which several young ladies of highest rank were to perform a dance in
mythological costume.

The King, on ill terms with the Queen, who harassed him with scenes of
affected jealousy, while engaged in permanent plots with her paramour and
master, the Italian Concini, against his policy and his life; on still
worse terms with his latest mistress in chief, the Marquise de Verneuil,
who hated him and revenged herself for enduring his caresses by making
him the butt of her venomous wit, had taken the festivities of a court in
dudgeon where he possessed hosts of enemies and flatterers but scarcely a
single friend.

He refused to attend any of the rehearsals of the ballet, but one day a
group of Diana and her nymphs passed him in the great gallery of the
palace. One of the nymphs as she went by turned and aimed her gilded
javelin at his heart. Henry looked and saw the most beautiful young
creature, so he thought, that mortal eye had ever gazed upon, and
according to his wont fell instantly over head and ears in love. He said
afterwards that he felt himself pierced to the heart and was ready to
faint away.

The lady was just fifteen years of age. The King was turned of
fifty-five. The disparity of age seemed to make the royal passion
ridiculous. To Henry the situation seemed poetical and pathetic. After
this first interview he never missed a single rehearsal. In the intervals
he called perpetually for the services of the court poet Malherbe, who
certainly contrived to perpetrate in his behalf some of the most
detestable verses that even he had ever composed.

The nymph was Marguerite de Montmorency, daughter of the Constable of
France, and destined one day to become the mother of the great Conde,
hero of Rocroy. There can be no doubt that she was exquisitely beautiful.
Fair-haired, with a complexion of dazzling purity, large expressive eyes,
delicate but commanding features, she had a singular fascination of look
and gesture, and a winning, almost childlike, simplicity of manner.
Without feminine artifice or commonplace coquetry, she seemed to bewitch
and subdue at a glance men of all ranks, ages, and pursuits; kings and
cardinals, great generals, ambassadors and statesmen, as well as humbler
mortals whether Spanish, Italian, French, or Flemish. The Constable, an
ignorant man who, as the King averred, could neither write nor read,
understood as well as more learned sages the manners and humours of the
court. He had destined his daughter for the young and brilliant
Bassompierre, the most dazzling of all the cavaliers of the day. The two
were betrothed.

But the love-stricken Henry, then confined to his bed with the gout, sent
for the chosen husband of the beautiful Margaret.

"Bassompierre, my friend," said the aged king, as the youthful lover
knelt before him at the bedside, "I have become not in love, but mad, out
of my senses, furious for Mademoiselle de Montmorency. If she should love
you, I should hate you. If she should love me, you would hate me. 'Tis
better that this should not be the cause of breaking up our good
intelligence, for I love you with affection and inclination. I am
resolved to marry her to my nephew the Prince of Conde, and to keep her
near my family. She will be the consolation and support of my old age
into which I am now about to enter. I shall give my nephew, who loves the
chase a thousand times better than he does ladies, 100,000 livres a year,
and I wish no other favour from her than her affection without making
further pretensions."

It was eight o'clock of a black winter's morning, and the tears as he
spoke ran down the cheeks of the hero of Ivry and bedewed the face of the
kneeling Bassompierre.

The courtly lover sighed and--obeyed. He renounced the hand of the
beautiful Margaret, and came daily to play at dice with the King at his
bedside with one or two other companions.

And every day the Duchess of Angouleme, sister of the Constable, brought
her fair niece to visit and converse with the royal invalid. But for the
dark and tragic clouds which were gradually closing around that eventful
and heroic existence there would be something almost comic in the
spectacle of the sufferer making the palace and all France ring with the
howlings of his grotesque passion for a child of fifteen as he lay
helpless and crippled with the gout.

One day as the Duchess of Angouleme led her niece away from their morning
visit to the King, Margaret as she passed by Bassompierre shrugged her
shoulders with a scornful glance. Stung by this expression of contempt,
the lover who had renounced her sprang from the dice table, buried his
face in his hat, pretending that his nose was bleeding, and rushed
frantically from the palace.

Two days long he spent in solitude, unable to eat, drink, or sleep,
abandoned to despair and bewailing his wretched fate, and it was long
before he could recover sufficient equanimity to face his lost Margaret
and resume his place at the King's dicing table. When he made his
appearance, he was according to his own account so pale, changed, and
emaciated that his friends could not recognise him.

The marriage with Conde, first prince of the blood, took place early in
the spring. The bride received magnificent presents, and the husband a
pension of 100,000 livres a year. The attentions of the King became soon
outrageous and the reigning scandal of the hour. Henry, discarding the
grey jacket and simple costume on which he was wont to pride himself,
paraded himself about in perfumed ruffs and glittering doublet, an
ancient fop, very little heroic, and much ridiculed. The Princess made
merry with the antics of her royal adorer, while her vanity at least, if
not her affection, was really touched, and there was one great round of
court festivities in her honour, at which the King and herself were ever
the central figures. But Conde was not at all amused. Not liking the part
assigned to him in the comedy thus skilfully arranged by his cousin king,
never much enamoured of his bride, while highly appreciating the 100,000
livres of pension, he remonstrated violently with his wife, bitterly
reproached the King, and made himself generally offensive. "The Prince is
here," wrote Henry to Sully, "and is playing the very devil. You would be
in a rage and be ashamed of the things he says of me. But at last I am
losing patience, and am resolved to give him a bit of my mind." He wrote
in the same terms to Montmorency. The Constable, whose conduct throughout
the affair was odious and pitiable, promised to do his best to induce the
Prince, instead of playing the devil, to listen to reason, as he and the
Duchess of Angouleme understood reason.

Henry had even the ineffable folly to appeal to the Queen to use her
influence with the refractory Conde. Mary de' Medici replied that there
were already thirty go-betweens at work, and she had no idea of being the
thirty-first--[Henrard, 30].

Conde, surrounded by a conspiracy against his honour and happiness,
suddenly carried off his wife to the country, much to the amazement and
rage of Henry.

In the autumn he entertained a hunting party at a seat of his, the Abbey
of Verneuille, on the borders of Picardy. De Traigny, governor of Amiens,
invited the Prince, Princess, and the Dowager-Princess to a banquet at
his chateau not far from the Abbey. On their road thither they passed a
group of huntsmen and grooms in the royal livery. Among them was an aged
lackey with a plaister over one eye, holding a couple of hounds in leash.
The Princess recognized at a glance under that ridiculous disguise the
King.

"What a madman!" she murmured as she passed him, "I will never forgive
you;" but as she confessed many years afterwards, this act of gallantly
did not displease her.'

In truth, even in mythological fable, Trove has scarcely ever reduced
demi-god or hero to more fantastic plight than was this travesty of the
great Henry. After dinner Madame de Traigny led her fair guest about the
castle to show her the various points of view. At one window she paused,
saying that it commanded a particularly fine prospect.

The Princess looked from it across a courtyard, and saw at an opposite
window an old gentleman holding his left hand tightly upon his heart to
show that it was wounded, and blowing kisses to her with the other: "My
God! it is the King himself," she cried to her hostess. The princess with
this exclamation rushed from the window, feeling or affecting much
indignation, ordered horses to her carriage instantly, and overwhelmed
Madame de Traigny with reproaches. The King himself, hastening to the
scene, was received with passionate invectives, and in vain attempted to
assuage the Princess's wrath and induce her to remain.

They left the chateau at once, both Prince and Princess.

One night, not many weeks afterwards, the Due de Sully, in the Arsenal at
Paris, had just got into bed at past eleven o'clock when he received a
visit from Captain de Praslin, who walked straight into his bed-chamber,
informing him that the King instantly required his presence.

Sully remonstrated. He was obliged to rise at three the next morning, he
said, enumerating pressing and most important work which Henry required
to be completed with all possible haste. "The King said you would be very
angry," replied Praslin; "but there is no help for it. Come you must, for
the man you know of has gone out of the country, as you said he would,
and has carried away the lady on the crupper behind him."

"Ho, ho," said the Duke, "I am wanted for that affair, am I?" And the two
proceeded straightway to the Louvre, and were ushered, of all apartments
in the world, into the Queen's bedchamber. Mary de' Medici had given
birth only four days before to an infant, Henrietta Maria, future queen
of Charles I. of England. The room was crowded with ministers and
courtiers; Villeroy, the Chancellor, Bassompierre, and others, being
stuck against the wall at small intervals like statues, dumb, motionless,
scarcely daring to breathe. The King, with his hands behind him and his
grey beard sunk on his breast, was pacing up and down the room in a
paroxysm of rage and despair.

"Well," said he, turning to Sully as he entered, "our man has gone off
and carried everything with him. What do you say to that?"

The Duke beyond the boding "I told you so" phrase of consolation which he
was entitled to use, having repeatedly warned his sovereign that
precisely this catastrophe was impending, declined that night to offer
advice. He insisted on sleeping on it. The manner in which the
proceedings of the King at this juncture would be regarded by the
Archdukes Albert and Isabella--for there could be no doubt that Conde had
escaped to their territory--and by the King of Spain, in complicity with
whom the step had unquestionably been taken--was of gravest political
importance.

Henry had heard the intelligence but an hour before. He was at cards in
his cabinet with Bassompierre and others when d'Elbene entered and made a
private communication to him. "Bassompierre, my friend," whispered the
King immediately in that courtier's ear, "I am lost. This man has carried
his wife off into a wood. I don't know if it is to kill her or to take
her out of France. Take care of my money and keep up the game."

Bassompierre followed the king shortly afterwards and brought him his
money. He said that he had never seen a man so desperate, so transported.

The matter was indeed one of deepest and universal import. The reader has
seen by the preceding narrative how absurd is the legend often believed
in even to our own days that war was made by France upon the Archdukes
and upon Spain to recover the Princess of Conde from captivity in
Brussels.

From contemporary sources both printed and unpublished; from most
confidential conversations and revelations, we have seen how broad,
deliberate, and deeply considered were the warlike and political
combinations in the King's ever restless brain. But although the
abduction of the new Helen by her own Menelaus was not the cause of the
impending, Iliad, there is no doubt whatever that the incident had much
to do with the crisis, was the turning point in a great tragedy, and that
but for the vehement passion of the King for this youthful princess
events might have developed themselves on a far different scale from that
which they were destined to assume. For this reason a court intrigue,
which history under other conditions might justly disdain, assumes vast
proportions and is taken quite away from the scandalous chronicle which
rarely busies itself with grave affairs of state.

"The flight of Conde," wrote Aerssens, "is the catastrophe to the comedy
which has been long enacting. 'Tis to be hoped that the sequel may not
prove tragical."

"The Prince," for simply by that title he was usually called to
distinguish him from all other princes in France, was next of blood. Had
Henry no sons, he would have succeeded him on the throne. It was a
favourite scheme of the Spanish party to invalidate Henry's divorce from
Margaret of Valois, and thus to cast doubts on the legitimacy of the
Dauphin and the other children of Mary de' Medici.

The Prince in the hands of the Spanish government might prove a docile
and most dangerous instrument to the internal repose of France not only
after Henry's death but in his life-time. Conde's character was
frivolous, unstable, excitable, weak, easy to be played upon by designing
politicians, and he had now the deepest cause for anger and for indulging
in ambitious dreams.

He had been wont during this unhappy first year of his marriage to loudly
accuse Henry of tyranny, and was now likely by public declaration to
assign that as the motive of his flight. Henry had protested in reply
that he had never been guilty of tyranny but once in his life, and that
was when he allowed this youth to take the name and title of Conde?

For the Princess-Dowager his mother had lain for years in prison, under
the terrible accusation of having murdered her husband, in complicity
with her paramour, a Gascon page, named Belcastel. The present prince had
been born several months after his reputed father's death. Henry, out of
good nature, or perhaps for less creditable reasons, had come to the
rescue of the accused princess, and had caused the process to be stopped,
further enquiry to be quashed, and the son to be recognized as legitimate
Prince of Conde. The Dowager had subsequently done her best to further
the King's suit to her son's wife, for which the Prince bitterly
reproached her to her face, heaping on her epithets which she well
deserved.

Henry at once began to threaten a revival of the criminal suit, with a
view of bastardizing him again, although the Dowager had acted on all
occasions with great docility in Henry's interests.

The flight of the Prince and Princess was thus not only an incident of
great importance to the internal politics of trance, but had a direct and
important bearing on the impending hostilities. Its intimate connection
with the affairs of the Netherland commonwealth was obvious. It was
probable that the fugitives would make their way towards the Archdukes'
territory, and that afterwards their first point of destination would be
Breda, of which Philip William of Orange, eldest brother of Prince
Maurice, was the titular proprietor. Since the truce recently concluded
the brothers, divided so entirely by politics and religion, could meet on
fraternal and friendly terms, and Breda, although a city of the
Commonwealth, received its feudal lord. The Princess of Orange was the
sister of Conde. The morning after the flight the King, before daybreak,
sent for the Dutch ambassador. He directed him to despatch a courier
forthwith to Barneveld, notifying him that the Prince had left the
kingdom without the permission or knowledge of his sovereign, and stating
the King's belief that he had fled to the territory of the Archdukes. If
he should come to Breda or to any other place within the jurisdiction of
the States, they were requested to make sure of his person at once, and
not to permit him to retire until further instructions should be received
from the King. De Praslin, captain of the body-guards and lieutenant of
Champagne, it was further mentioned, was to be sent immediately on secret
mission concerning this affair to the States and to the Archdukes.

The King suspected Conde of crime, so the Advocate was to be informed. He
believed him to be implicated in the conspiracy of Poitou; the six who
had been taken prisoners having confessed that they had thrice conferred
with a prince at Paris, and that the motive of the plot was to free
themselves and France from the tyranny of Henry IV. The King insisted
peremptorily, despite of any objections from Aerssens, that the thing
must be done and his instructions carried out to the letter. So much he
expected of the States, and they should care no more for ulterior
consequences, he said, than he had done for the wrath of Spain when he
frankly undertook their cause. Conde was important only because his
relative, and he declared that if the Prince should escape, having once
entered the territory of the Republic, he should lay the blame on its
government.

"If you proceed languidly in the affair," wrote Aerssens to Barneveld,
"our affairs will suffer for ever."

Nobody at court believed in the Poitou conspiracy, or that Conde had any
knowledge of it. The reason of his flight was a mystery to none, but as
it was immediately followed by an intrigue with Spain, it seemed
ingenious to Henry to make, use of a transparent pretext to conceal the
ugliness of the whole affair.

He hoped that the Prince would be arrested at Breda and sent back by the
States. Villeroy said that if it was not done, they would be guilty of
black ingratitude. It would be an awkward undertaking, however, and the
States devoutly prayed that they might not be put to the test. The crafty
Aerssens suggested to Barneveld that if Conde was not within their
territory it would be well to assure the King that, had he been there, he
would have been delivered up at once. "By this means," said the
Ambassador, "you will give no cause of offence to the Prince, and will at
the same time satisfy the King. It is important that he should think that
you depend immediately upon him. If you see that after his arrest they
take severe measures against him, you will have a thousand ways of
parrying the blame which posterity might throw upon you. History teaches
you plenty of them."

He added that neither Sully nor anyone else thought much of the Poitou
conspiracy. Those implicated asserted that they had intended to raise
troops there to assist the King in the Cleve expedition. Some people said
that Henry had invented this plot against his throne and life. The
Ambassador, in a spirit of prophecy, quoted the saying of Domitian:
"Misera conditio imperantium quibus de conspiratione non creditor nisi
occisis."

Meantime the fugitives continued their journey. The Prince was
accompanied by one of his dependants, a rude officer, de Rochefort, who
carried the Princess on a pillion behind him. She had with her a
lady-in-waiting named du Certeau and a lady's maid named Philippote. She
had no clothes but those on her back, not even a change of linen. Thus
the young and delicate lady made the wintry journey through the forests.
They crossed the frontier at Landrecies, then in the Spanish Netherlands,
intending to traverse the Archduke's territory in order to reach Breda,
where Conde meant to leave his wife in charge of his sister, the Princess
of Orange, and then to proceed to Brussels.

He wrote from the little inn at Landrecies to notify the Archduke of his
project. He was subsequently informed that Albert would not prevent his
passing through his territories, but should object to his making a fixed
residence within them. The Prince also wrote subsequently to the King of
Spain and to the King of France.

To Henry he expressed his great regret at being obliged to leave the
kingdom in order to save his honour and his life, but that he had no
intention of being anything else than his very humble and faithful
cousin, subject, and servant. He would do nothing against his service, he
said, unless forced thereto, and he begged the King not to take it amiss
if he refused to receive letters from any one whomsoever at court, saving
only such letters as his Majesty himself might honour him by writing.

The result of this communication to the King was of course to enrage that
monarch to the utmost, and his first impulse on finding that the Prince
was out of his reach was to march to Brussels at once and take possession
of him and the Princess by main force. More moderate counsels prevailed
for the moment however, and negotiations were attempted.

Praslin did not contrive to intercept the fugitives, but the
States-General, under the advice of Barneveld, absolutely forbade their
coming to Breda or entering any part of their jurisdiction. The result of
Conde's application to the King of Spain was an ultimate offer of
assistance and asylum, through a special emissary, one Anover; for the
politicians of Madrid were astute enough to see what a card the Prince
might prove in their hands.

Henry instructed his ambassador in Spain to use strong and threatening
language in regard to the harbouring a rebel and a conspirator against
the throne of France; while on the other hand he expressed his
satisfaction with the States for having prohibited the Prince from
entering their territory. He would have preferred, he said, if they had
allowed him entrance and forbidden his departure, but on the whole he was
content. It was thought in Paris that the Netherland government had acted
with much adroitness in thus abstaining both from a violation of the law
of nations and from giving offence to the King.

A valet of Conde was taken with some papers of the Prince about him,
which proved a determination on his part never to return to France during
the lifetime of Henry. They made no statement of the cause of his flight,
except to intimate that it might be left to the judgment of every one, as
it was unfortunately but too well known to all.

Refused entrance into the Dutch territory, the Prince was obliged to
renounce his project in regard to Breda, and brought his wife to
Brussels. He gave Bentivoglio, the Papal nuncio, two letters to forward
to Italy, one to the Pope, the other to his nephew, Cardinal Borghese.
Encouraged by the advices which he had received from Spain, he justified
his flight from France both by the danger to his honour and to his life,
recommending both to the protection of his Holiness and his Eminence.
Bentivoglio sent the letters, but while admitting the invincible reasons
for his departure growing out of the King's pursuit of the Princess, he
refused all credence to the pretended violence against Conde himself.
Conde informed de Praslin that he would not consent to return to France.
Subsequently he imposed as conditions of return that the King should
assign to him certain cities and strongholds in Guienne, of which
province he was governor, far from Paris and very near the Spanish
frontier; a measure dictated by Spain and which inflamed Henry's wrath
almost to madness. The King insisted on his instant return, placing
himself and of course the Princess entirely in his hands and receiving a
full pardon for this effort to save his honour. The Prince and Princess
of Orange came from Breda to Brussels to visit their brother and his
wife. Here they established them in the Palace of Nassau, once the
residence in his brilliant youth of William the Silent; a magnificent
mansion, surrounded by park and garden, built on the brow of the almost
precipitous hill, beneath which is spread out so picturesquely the
antique and beautiful capital of Brabant.

The Archdukes received them with stately courtesy at their own palace. On
their first ceremonious visit to the sovereigns of the land, the formal
Archduke, coldest and chastest of mankind, scarcely lifted his eyes to
gaze on the wondrous beauty of the Princess, yet assured her after he had
led her through a portrait gallery of fair women that formerly these had
been accounted beauties, but that henceforth it was impossible to speak
of any beauty but her own.

The great Spinola fell in love with her at once, sent for the illustrious
Rubens from Antwerp to paint her portrait, and offered Mademoiselle de
Chateau Vert 10,000 crowns in gold if she would do her best to further
his suit with her mistress. The Genoese banker-soldier made love, war,
and finance on a grand scale. He gave a magnificent banquet and ball in
her honour on Twelfth Night, and the festival was the wonder of the town.
Nothing like it had been seen in Brussels for years. At six in the
evening Spinola in splendid costume, accompanied by Don Luis Velasco,
Count Ottavio Visconti, Count Bucquoy, with other nobles of lesser note,
drove to the Nassau Palace to bring the Prince and Princess and their
suite to the Marquis's mansion. Here a guard of honour of thirty
musketeers was standing before the door, and they were conducted from
their coaches by Spinola preceded by twenty-four torch-bearers up the
grand staircase to a hall, where they were received by the Princesses of
Mansfeld, Velasco, and other distinguished dames. Thence they were led
through several apartments rich with tapestry and blazing with crystal
and silver plate to a splendid saloon where was a silken canopy, under
which the Princess of Conde and the Princess of Orange seated themselves,
the Nuncius Bentivoglio to his delight being placed next the beautiful
Margaret. After reposing for a little while they were led to the
ball-room, brilliantly lighted with innumerable torches of perfumed wax
and hung with tapestry of gold and silk, representing in fourteen
embroidered designs the chief military exploits of Spinola. Here the
banquet, a cold collation, was already spread on a table decked and
lighted with regal splendour. As soon as the guests were seated, an
admirable concert of instrumental music began. Spinola walked up and down
providing for the comforts of his company, the Duke of Aumale stood
behind the two princesses to entertain them with conversation, Don Luis
Velasco served the Princess of Conde with plates, handed her the dishes,
the wine, the napkins, while Bucquoy and Visconti in like manner waited
upon the Princess of Orange; other nobles attending to the other ladies.
Forty-eight pages in white, yellow, and red scarves brought and removed
the dishes. The dinner, of courses innumerable, lasted two hours and a
half, and the ladies, being thus fortified for the more serious business
of the evening, were led to the tiring-rooms while the hall was made
ready for dancing. The ball was opened by the Princess of Conde and
Spinola, and lasted until two in the morning. As the apartment grew warm,
two of the pages went about with long staves and broke all the windows
until not a single pane of glass remained. The festival was estimated by
the thrifty chronicler of Antwerp to have cost from 3000 to 4000 crowns.
It was, he says, "an earthly paradise of which soon not a vapour
remained." He added that he gave a detailed account of it "not because he
took pleasure in such voluptuous pomp and extravagance, but that one
might thus learn the vanity of the world." These courtesies and
assiduities on the part of the great "shopkeeper," as the Constable
called him, had so much effect, if not on the Princess, at least on Conde
himself, that he threatened to throw his wife out of window if she
refused to caress Spinola. These and similar accusations were made by the
father and aunt when attempting to bring about a divorce of the Princess
from her husband. The Nuncius Bentivoglio, too, fell in love with her,
devoting himself to her service, and his facile and eloquent pen to
chronicling her story. Even poor little Philip of Spain in the depths of
the Escurial heard of her charms, and tried to imagine himself in love
with her by proxy.

Thenceforth there was a succession of brilliant festivals in honour of
the Princess. The Spanish party was radiant with triumph, the French
maddened with rage. Henry in Paris was chafing like a lion at bay. A
petty sovereign whom he could crush at one vigorous bound was protecting
the lady for whose love he was dying. He had secured Conde's exclusion
from Holland, but here were the fugitives splendidly established in
Brussels; the Princess surrounded by most formidable suitors, the Prince
encouraged in his rebellious and dangerous schemes by the power which the
King most hated on earth, and whose eternal downfall he had long since
sworn to accomplish.

For the weak and frivolous Conde began to prattle publicly of his deep
projects of revenge. Aided by Spanish money and Spanish troops he would
show one day who was the real heir to the throne of France--the
illegitimately born Dauphin or himself.

The King sent for the first president of Parliament, Harlay, and
consulted with him as to the proper means of reviving the suppressed
process against the Dowager and of publicly degrading Conde from his
position of first prince of the blood which he had been permitted to
usurp. He likewise procured a decree accusing him of high-treason and
ordering him to be punished at his Majesty's pleasure, to be prepared by
the Parliament of Paris; going down to the court himself in his
impatience and seating himself in everyday costume on the bench of judges
to see that it was immediately proclaimed.

Instead of at once attacking the Archdukes in force as he intended
in the first ebullition of his wrath, he resolved to send
de Boutteville-Montmorency, a relative of the Constable, on special and
urgent mission to Brussels. He was to propose that Conde and his wife
should return with the Prince and Princess of Orange to Breda, the King
pledging himself that for three or four months nothing should be
undertaken against him. Here was a sudden change of determination fit to
surprise the States-General, but the King's resolution veered and whirled
about hourly in the tempests of his wrath and love.

That excellent old couple, the Constable and the Duchess of Angouleme,
did their best to assist their sovereign in his fierce attempts to get
their daughter and niece into his power.

The Constable procured a piteous letter to be written to Archduke Albert,
signed "Montmorency his mark," imploring him not to "suffer that his
daughter, since the Prince refused to return to France, should leave
Brussels to be a wanderer about the world following a young prince who
had no fixed purpose in his mind."

Archduke Albert, through his ambassador in Paris, Peter Pecquius,
suggested the possibility of a reconciliation between Henry and his
kinsman, and offered himself as intermediary. He enquired whether the
King would find it agreeable that he should ask for pardon in name of the
Prince. Henry replied that he was willing that the Archduke should accord
to Conde secure residence for the time within his dominions on three
inexorable conditions:--firstly, that the Prince should ask for pardon
without any stipulations, the King refusing to listen to any treaty or to
assign him towns or places of security as had been vaguely suggested, and
holding it utterly unreasonable that a man sueing for pardon should,
instead of deserved punishment, talk of terms and acquisitions; secondly,
that, if Conde should reject the proposition, Albert should immediately
turn him out of his country, showing himself justly irritated at finding
his advice disregarded; thirdly, that, sending away the Prince, the
Archduke should forthwith restore the Princess to her father the
Constable and her aunt Angouleme, who had already made their petitions to
Albert and Isabella for that end, to which the King now added his own
most particular prayers.

If the Archduke should refuse consent to these three conditions, Henry
begged that he would abstain from any farther attempt to effect a
reconciliation and not suffer Conde to remain any longer within his
territories.

Pecquius replied that he thought his master might agree to the two first
propositions while demurring to the third, as it would probably not seem
honourable to him to separate man and wife, and as it was doubtful
whether the Princess would return of her own accord.

The King, in reporting the substance of this conversation to Aerssens,
intimated his conviction that they were only wishing in Brussels to gain
time; that they were waiting for letters from Spain, which they were
expecting ever since the return of Conde's secretary from Milan, whither
he had been sent to confer with the Governor, Count Fuentes. He said
farther that he doubted whether the Princess would go to Breda, which he
should now like, but which Conde would not now permit. This he imputed in
part to the Princess of Orange, who had written a letter full of
invectives against himself to the Dowager--Princess of Conde which she
had at once sent to him. Henry expressed at the same time his great
satisfaction with the States-General and with Barneveld in this affair,
repeating his assurances that they were the truest and best friends he
had.

The news of Conde's ceremonious visit to Leopold in Julich could not fail
to exasperate the King almost as much as the pompous manner in which he
was subsequently received at Brussels; Spinola and the Spanish Ambassador
going forth to meet him. At the same moment the secretary of Vaucelles,
Henry's ambassador in Madrid, arrived in Paris, confirming the King's
suspicions that Conde's flight had been concerted with Don Inigo de
Cardenas, and was part of a general plot of Spain against the peace of
the kingdom. The Duc d'Epernon, one of the most dangerous plotters at the
court, and deep in the intimacy of the Queen and of all the secret
adherents of the Spanish policy, had been sojourning a long time at Metz,
under pretence of attending to his health, had sent his children to
Spain, as hostages according to Henry's belief, had made himself master
of the citadel, and was turning a deaf ear to all the commands of the
King.

The supporters of Conde in France were openly changing their note and
proclaiming by the Prince's command that he had left the kingdom in order
to preserve his quality of first prince of the blood, and that he meant
to make good his right of primogeniture against the Dauphin and all
competitors.

Such bold language and such open reliance on the support of Spain in
disputing the primogeniture of the Dauphin were fast driving the most
pacifically inclined in France into enthusiasm for the war.

The States, too, saw their opportunity more vividly every day. "What
could we desire more," wrote Aerssens to Barneveld, "than open war
between France and Spain? Posterity will for ever blame us if we reject
this great occasion."

Peter Pecquius, smoothest and sliest of diplomatists, did his best to
make things comfortable, for there could be little doubt that his masters
most sincerely deprecated war. On their heads would come the first blows,
to their provinces would return the great desolation out of which they
had hardly emerged. Still the Archduke, while racking his brains for the
means of accommodation, refused, to his honour, to wink at any violation
of the law of nations, gave a secret promise, in which the Infanta
joined, that the Princess should not be allowed to leave Brussels without
her husband's permission, and resolutely declined separating the pair
except with the full consent of both. In order to protect himself from
the King's threats, he suggested sending Conde to some neutral place for
six or eight months, to Prague, to Breda, or anywhere else; but Henry
knew that Conde would never allow this unless he had the means by Spanish
gold of bribing the garrison there, and so of holding the place in
pretended neutrality, but in reality at the devotion of the King of
Spain.

Meantime Henry had despatched the Marquis de Coeuvres, brother of the
beautiful Gabrielle, Duchess de Beaufort, and one of the most audacious
and unscrupulous of courtiers, on a special mission to Brussels. De
Coeuvres saw Conde before presenting his credentials to the Archduke, and
found him quite impracticable. Acting under the advice of the Prince of
Orange, he expressed his willingness to retire to some neutral city of
Germany or Italy, drawing meanwhile from Henry a pension of 40,000 crowns
a year. But de Coeuvres firmly replied that the King would make no terms
with his vassal nor allow Conde to prescribe conditions to him. To leave
him in Germany or Italy, he said, was to leave him in the dependence of
Spain. The King would not have this constant apprehension of her
intrigues while, living, nor leave such matter in dying for turbulence in
his kingdom. If it appeared that the Spaniards wished to make use of the
Prince for such purposes, he would be beforehand with them, and show them
how much more injury he could inflict on Spain than they on France.
Obviously committed to Spain, Conde replied to the entreaties of the
emissary that if the King would give him half his kingdom he would not
accept the offer nor return to France; at least before the 8th of
February, by which date he expected advices from Spain. He had given his
word, he said, to lend his ear to no overtures before that time. He made
use of many threats, and swore that he would throw himself entirely into
the arms of the Spanish king if Henry would not accord him the terms
which he had proposed.

To do this was an impossibility. To grant him places of security would,
as the King said, be to plant a standard for all the malcontents of
France to rally around. Conde had evidently renounced all hopes of a
reconciliation, however painfully his host the Archduke might intercede
for it. He meant to go to Spain. Spinola was urging this daily and
hourly, said Henry, for he had fallen in love with the Princess, who
complained of all these persecutions in her letters to her father, and
said that she would rather die than go to Spain.

The King's advices from de Coeuvres were however to the effect that the
step would probably be taken, that the arrangements were making, and that
Spinola had been shut up with Conde six hours long with nobody present
but Rochefort and a certain counsellor of the Prince of Orange named
Keeremans.

Henry was taking measures to intercept them on their flight by land, but
there was some thought of their proceeding to Spain by sea. He therefore
requested the States to send two ships of war, swift sailors, well
equipped, one to watch in the roads of St. Jean and the other on the
English coast. These ships were to receive their instructions from
Admiral de Vicq, who would be well informed of all the movements of the
Prince and give warning to the captains of the Dutch vessels by a
preconcerted signal. The King begged that Barneveld would do him this
favour, if he loved him, and that none might have knowledge of it but the
Advocate and Prince Maurice. The ships would be required for two or three
months only, but should be equipped and sent forth as soon as possible.

The States had no objection to performing this service, although it
subsequently proved to be unnecessary, and they were quite ready at that
moment to go openly into the war to settle the affairs of Clove, and once
for all to drive the Spaniards out of the Netherlands and beyond seas and
mountains. Yet strange to say, those most conversant with the state of
affairs could not yet quite persuade themselves that matters were
serious, and that the King's mind was fixed. Should Conde return,
renounce his Spanish stratagems, and bring back the Princess to court, it
was felt by the King's best and most confidential friends that all might
grow languid again, the Spanish faction get the upper hand in the King's
councils, and the States find themselves in a terrible embarrassment.

On the other hand, the most prying and adroit of politicians were puzzled
to read the signs of the times. Despite Henry's garrulity, or perhaps in
consequence of it, the envoys of Spain, the Empire, and of Archduke
Albert were ignorant whether peace were likely to be broken or not, in
spite of rumours which filled the air. So well had the secrets been kept
which the reader has seen discussed in confidential conversations--the
record of which has always remained unpublished--between the King and
those admitted to his intimacy that very late in the winter Pecquius,
while sadly admitting to his masters that the King was likely to take
part against the Emperor in the affair of the duchies, expressed the
decided opinion that it would be limited to the secret sending of succour
to Brandenburg and Neuburg as formerly to the United Provinces, but that
he would never send troops into Cleve, or march thither himself.

It is important, therefore, to follow closely the development of these
political and amorous intrigues, for they furnish one of the most curious
and instructive lessons of history; there being not the slightest doubt
that upon their issue chiefly depended the question of a great and
general war.

Pecquius, not yet despairing that his master would effect a
reconciliation between the King and Conde, proposed again that the Prince
should be permitted to reside for a time in some place not within the
jurisdiction of Spain or of the Archdukes, being allowed meantime to draw
his annual pension of 100,000 livres. Henry ridiculed the idea of Conde's
drawing money from him while occupying his time abroad with intrigues
against his throne and his children's succession. He scoffed at the
Envoy's pretences that Conde was not in receipt of money from Spain, as
if a man so needy and in so embarrassing a position could live without
money from some source; and as if he were not aware, from his
correspondents in Spain, that funds were both promised and furnished to
the Prince.

He repeated his determination not to accord him pardon unless he returned
to France, which he had no cause to leave, and, turning suddenly on
Pecquius, demanded why, the subject of reconciliation having failed, the
Archduke did not immediately fulfil his promise of turning Conde out of
his dominions.

Upon this Albert's minister drew back with the air of one amazed, asking
how and when the Archduke had ever made such a promise.

"To the Marquis de Coeuvres," replied Henry.

Pecquius asked if his ears had not deceived him, and if the King had
really said that de Coeuvres had made such a statement.

Henry repeated and confirmed the story.

Upon the Minister's reply that he had himself received no such
intelligence from the Archduke, the King suddenly changed his tone, and
said,

"No, I was mistaken--I was confused--the Marquis never wrote me this; but
did you not say yourself that I might be assured that there would be no
difficulty about it if the Prince remained obstinate."

Pecquius replied that he had made such a proposition to his masters by
his Majesty's request; but there had been no answer received, nor time
for one, as the hope of reconciliation had not yet been renounced. He
begged Henry to consider whether, without instructions from his master,
he could have thus engaged his word.

"Well," said the King, "since you disavow it, I see very well that the
Archduke has no wish to give me pleasure, and that these are nothing but
tricks that you have been amusing me with all this time. Very good; each
of us will know what we have to do."

Pecquius considered that the King had tried to get him into a net, and to
entrap him into the avowal of a promise which he had never made. Henry
remained obstinate in his assertions, notwithstanding all the envoy's
protestations.

"A fine trick, indeed, and unworthy of a king, 'Si dicere fas est,'" he
wrote to Secretary of State Praets. "But the force of truth is such that
he who spreads the snare always tumbles into the ditch himself."

Henry concluded the subject of Conde at this interview by saying that he
could have his pardon on the conditions already named, and not otherwise.

He also made some complaints about Archduke Leopold, who, he said,
notwithstanding his demonstrations of wishing a treaty of compromise, was
taking towns by surprise which he could not hold, and was getting his
troops massacred on credit.

Pecquius expressed the opinion that it would be better to leave the
Germans to make their own arrangements among themselves, adding that
neither his masters nor the King of Spain meant to mix themselves up in
the matter.

"Let them mix themselves in it or keep out of it, as they like," said
Henry, "I shall not fail to mix myself up in it."

The King was marvellously out of humour.

Before finishing the interview, he asked Pecquius whether Marquis Spinola
was going to Spain very soon, as he had permission from his Majesty to do
so, and as he had information that he would be on the road early in Lent.
The Minister replied that this would depend on the will of the Archduke,
and upon various circumstances. The answer seemed to displease the King,
and Pecquius was puzzled to know why. He was not aware, of course, of
Henry's project to kidnap the Marquis on the road, and keep him as a
surety for Conde.

The Envoy saw Villeroy after the audience, who told him not to mind the
King's ill-temper, but to bear it as patiently as he could. His Majesty
could not digest, he said, his infinite displeasure at the obstinacy of
the Prince; but they must nevertheless strive for a reconciliation. The
King was quick in words, but slow in deeds, as the Ambassador might have
observed before, and they must all try to maintain peace, to which he
would himself lend his best efforts.

As the Secretary of State was thoroughly aware that the King was making
vast preparations for war, and had given in his own adhesion to the
project, it is refreshing to observe the candour with which he assured
the representative of the adverse party of his determination that
friendliest relations should be preserved.

It is still more refreshing to find Villeroy, the same afternoon, warmly
uniting with Sully, Lesdiguieres, and the Chancellor, in the decision
that war should begin forthwith.

For the King held a council at the Arsenal immediately after this
interview with Pecquius, in which he had become convinced that Conde
would never return. He took the Queen with him, and there was not a
dissentient voice as to the necessity of beginning hostilities at once.

Sully, however, was alone in urging that the main force of the attack
should be in the north, upon the Rhine and Meuse. Villeroy and those who
were secretly in the Spanish interest were for beginning it with the
southern combination and against Milan. Sully believed the Duke of Savoy
to be variable and attached in his heart to Spain, and he thought it
contrary to the interests of France to permit an Italian prince to grow
so great on her frontier. He therefore thoroughly disapproved the plan,
and explained to the Dutch ambassador that all this urgency to carry on
the war in the south came from hatred to the United Provinces, jealousy
of their aggrandizement, detestation of the Reformed religion, and hope
to engage Henry in a campaign which he could not carry on successfully.
But he assured Aerssens that he had the means of counteracting these
designs and of bringing on an invasion for obtaining possession of the
Meuse. If the possessory princes found Henry making war in the Milanese
only, they would feel themselves ruined, and might throw up the game. He
begged that Barneveld would come on to Paris at once, as now or never was
the moment to assure the Republic for all time.

The King had acted with malicious adroitness in turning the tables upon
the Prince and treating him as a rebel and a traitor because, to save his
own and his wife's honour, he had fled from a kingdom where he had but
too good reason to suppose that neither was safe. The Prince, with
infinite want of tact, had played into the King's hands. He had bragged
of his connection with Spain and of his deep designs, and had shown to
all the world that he was thenceforth but an instrument in the hands of
the Spanish cabinet, while all the world knew the single reason for which
he had fled.

The King, hopeless now of compelling the return of Conde, had become most
anxious to separate him from his wife. Already the subject of divorce
between the two had been broached, and it being obvious that the Prince
would immediately betake himself into the Spanish dominions, the King was
determined that the Princess should not follow him thither.

He had the incredible effrontery and folly to request the Queen to
address a letter to her at Brussels, urging her to return to France. But
Mary de' Medici assured her husband that she had no intention of becoming
his assistant, using, to express her thought, the plainest and most
vigorous word that the Italian language could supply. Henry had then
recourse once more to the father and aunt.

That venerable couple being about to wait upon the Archduke's envoy, in
compliance with the royal request, Pecquius, out of respect to their
advanced age, went to the Constable's residence. Here both the Duchess
and Constable, with tears in their eyes, besought that diplomatist to do
his utmost to prevent the Princess from the sad fate of any longer
sharing her husband's fortunes.

The father protested that he would never have consented to her marriage,
preferring infinitely that she should have espoused any honest gentleman
with 2000 crowns a year than this first prince of the blood, with a
character such as it had proved to be; but that he had not dared to
disobey the King.

He spoke of the indignities and cruelties to which she was subjected,
said that Rochefort, whom Conde had employed to assist him in their
flight from France, and on the crupper of whose horse the Princess had
performed the journey, was constantly guilty of acts of rudeness and
incivility towards her; that but a few days past he had fired off pistols
in her apartment where she was sitting alone with the Princess of Orange,
exclaiming that this was the way he would treat anyone who interfered
with the commands of his master, Conde; that the Prince was incessantly
railing at her for refusing to caress the Marquis of Spinola; and that,
in short, he would rather she were safe in the palace of the Archduchess
Isabella, even in the humblest position among her gentlewomen, than to
know her vagabondizing miserably about the world with her husband.

This, he said, was the greatest fear he had, and he would rather see her
dead than condemned to such a fate.

He trusted that the Archdukes were incapable of believing the stories
that he and the Duchess of Angouleme were influenced in the appeals they
made for the separation of the Prince and Princess by a desire to serve
the purposes of the King. Those were fables put about by Conde. All that
the Constable and his sister desired was that the Archduchess would
receive the Princess kindly when she should throw herself at her feet,
and not allow her to be torn away against her will. The Constable spoke
with great gravity and simplicity, and with all the signs of genuine
emotion, and Peter Pecquius was much moved. He assured the aged pair that
he would do his best to comply with their wishes, and should immediately
apprise the Archdukes of the interview which had just taken place. Most
certainly they were entirely disposed to gratify the Constable and the
Duchess as well as the Princess herself, whose virtues, qualities, and
graces had inspired them with affection, but it must be remembered that
the law both human and divine required wives to submit themselves to the
commands of their husbands and to be the companions of their good and
evil fortunes. Nevertheless, he hoped that the Lord would so conduct the
affairs of the Prince of Conde that the Most Christian King and the
Archdukes would all be satisfied.

These pious and consolatory commonplaces on the part of Peter Pecquius
deeply affected the Constable. He fell upon the Envoy's neck, embraced
him repeatedly, and again wept plentifully.




CHAPTER III.

   Strange Scene at the Archduke's Palace--Henry's Plot frustrated--
   His Triumph changed to Despair--Conversation of the Dutch Ambassador
   with the King--The War determined upon.

It was in the latter part of the Carnival, the Saturday night preceding
Shrove Tuesday, 1610. The winter had been a rigorous one in Brussels, and
the snow lay in drifts three feet deep in the streets. Within and about
the splendid palace of Nassau there was much commotion. Lights and
flambeaux were glancing, loud voices, martial music, discharge of pistols
and even of artillery were heard together with the trampling of many
feet, but there was nothing much resembling the wild revelry or cheerful
mummery of that holiday season. A throng of the great nobles of Belgium
with drawn swords and menacing aspect were assembled in the chief
apartments, a detachment of the Archduke's mounted body-guard was
stationed in the courtyard, and five hundred halberdiers of the burgher
guilds kept watch and ward about the palace.

The Prince of Conde, a square-built, athletic young man of middle
stature, with regular features, but a sulky expression, deepened at this
moment into ferocity, was seen chasing the secretary of the French
resident minister out of the courtyard, thwacking him lustily about the
shoulders with his drawn sword, and threatening to kill him or any other
Frenchman on the spot, should he show himself in that palace. He was
heard shouting rather than speaking, in furious language against the
King, against Coeuvres, against Berny, and bitterly bewailing his
misfortunes, as if his wife were already in Paris instead of Brussels.

Upstairs in her own apartment which she had kept for some days on pretext
of illness sat the Princess Margaret, in company' of Madame de Berny,
wife of the French minister, and of the Marquis de Coeuvres, Henry's
special envoy, and a few other Frenchmen. She was passionately fond of
dancing. The adoring cardinal described her as marvellously graceful and
perfect in that accomplishment. She had begged her other adorer, the
Marquis Spinola, "with sweetest words," that she might remain a few days
longer in the Nassau Palace before removing to the Archduke's residence,
and that the great general, according to the custom in France and
Flanders, would be the one to present her with the violins. But Spinola,
knowing the artifice concealed beneath these "sweetest words," had
summoned up valour enough to resist her blandishments, and had refused a
second entertainment.

It was not, therefore, the disappointment at losing her ball that now
made the Princess sad. She and her companions saw that there had been a
catastrophe; a plot discovered. There was bitter disappointment and deep
dismay upon their faces. The plot had been an excellent one. De Coeuvres
had arranged it all, especially instigated thereto by the father of the
Princess acting in concurrence with the King. That night when all was
expected to be in accustomed quiet, the Princess, wrapped in her
mantilla, was to have stolen down into the garden, accompanied only by
her maid the adventurous and faithful Philipotte, to have gone through a
breach which led through a garden wall to the city ramparts, thence
across the foss to the counterscarp, where a number of horsemen under
trustworthy commanders were waiting. Mounting on the crupper behind one
of the officers of the escort, she was then to fly to the frontier,
relays of horses having been provided at every stage until she should
reach Rocroy, the first pausing place within French territory; a perilous
adventure for the young and delicate Princess in a winter of almost
unexampled severity.

On the very morning of the day assigned for the adventure, despatches
brought by special couriers from the Nuncius and the Spanish ambassador
at Paris gave notice of the plot to the Archdukes and to Conde, although
up to that moment none knew of it in Brussels. Albert, having been
apprised that many Frenchmen had been arriving during the past few days,
and swarming about the hostelries of the city and suburbs, was at once
disposed to believe in the story. When Conde came to him, therefore, with
confirmation from his own letters, and demanding a detachment of the
body-guard in addition to the burgher militiamen already granted by the
magistrates, he made no difficulty granting the request. It was as if
there had been a threatened assault of the city, rather than the
attempted elopement of a young lady escorted by a handful of cavaliers.

The courtyard of the Nassau Palace was filled with cavalry sent by the
Archduke, while five hundred burgher guards sent by the magistrates were
drawn up around the gate. The noise and uproar, gaining at every moment
more mysterious meaning by the darkness of night, soon spread through the
city. The whole population was awake, and swarming through the streets.
Such a tumult had not for years been witnessed in Brussels, and the
rumour flew about and was generally believed that the King of France at
the head of an army was at the gates of the city determined to carry off
the Princess by force. But although the superfluous and very scandalous
explosion might have been prevented, there could be no doubt that the
stratagem had been defeated.

Nevertheless, the effrontery and ingenuity of de Coeuvres became now
sublime. Accompanied by his colleague, the resident minister, de Berny,
who was sure not to betray the secret because he had never known it--his
wife alone having been in the confidence of the Princess--he proceeded
straightway to the Archduke's palace, and, late in the night as it was,
insisted on an audience.

Here putting on his boldest face when admitted to the presence, he
complained loudly of the plot, of which he had just become aware,
contrived by the Prince of Conde to carry off his wife to Spain against
her will, by main force, and by assistance of Flemish nobles, archiducal
body-guard, and burgher militia.

It was all a plot of Conde, he said, to palliate still more his flight
from France. Every one knew that the Princess could not fly back to Paris
through the air. To take her out of a house filled with people, to pierce
or scale the walls of the city, to arrange her journey by ordinary means,
and to protect the whole route by stations of cavalry, reaching from
Brussels to the frontier, and to do all this in profound secrecy, was
equally impossible. Such a scheme had never been arranged nor even
imagined, he said. The true plotter was Conde, aided by ministers in
Flanders hostile to France, and as the honour of the King and the
reputation of the Princess had been injured by this scandal, the
Ambassador loudly demanded a thorough investigation of the affair in
order that vengeance might fall where it was due.

The prudent Albert was equal to the occasion. Not wishing to state the
full knowledge which he possessed of de Coeuvres' agency and the King's
complicity in the scheme of abduction to France, he reasoned calmly with
the excited marquis, while his colleague looked and listened in dumb
amazement, having previously been more vociferous and infinitely more
sincere than his colleague in expressions of indignation.

The Archduke said that he had not thought the plot imputed to the King
and his ambassador very probable. Nevertheless, the assertions of the
Prince had been so positive as to make it impossible to refuse the guards
requested by him. He trusted, however, that the truth would soon be
known, and that it would leave no stain on the Princess, nor give any
offence to the King.

Surprised and indignant at the turn given to the adventure by the French
envoys, he nevertheless took care to conceal these sentiments, to abstain
from accusation, and calmly to inform them that the Princess next morning
would be established under his own roof; and enjoy the protection of the
Archduchess.

For it had been arranged several days before that Margaret should leave
the palace of Nassau for that of Albert and Isabella on the 14th, and the
abduction had been fixed for the night of the 13th precisely because the
conspirators wished to profit by the confusion incident on a change of
domicile.

The irrepressible de Coeuvres, even then hardly willing to give up the
whole stratagem as lost, was at least determined to discover how and by
whom the plot had been revealed. In a cemetery piled three feet deep with
snow on the evening following that mid-winter's night which had been
fixed for the Princess's flight, the unfortunate ambassador waited until
a certain Vallobre, a gentleman of Spinola's, who was the go-between of
the enamoured Genoese and the Princess, but whom de Coeuvres had gained
over, came at last to meet him by appointment. When he arrived, it was
only to inform him of the manner in which he had been baffled, to
convince him that the game was up, and that nothing was left him but to
retreat utterly foiled in his attempt, and to be stigmatized as a
blockhead by his enraged sovereign.

Next day the Princess removed her residence to the palace of the
Archdukes, where she was treated with distinguished honour by Isabella,
and installed ceremoniously in the most stately, the most virtuous, and
the most dismal of courts. Her father and aunt professed themselves as
highly pleased with the result, and Pecquius wrote that "they were glad
to know her safe from the importunities of the old fop who seemed as mad
as if he had been stung by a tarantula."

And how had the plot been revealed? Simply through the incorrigible
garrulity of the King himself. Apprised of the arrangement in all its
details by the Constable, who had first received the special couriers of
de Coeuvres, he could not keep the secret to himself for a moment, and
the person of all others in the world to whom he thought good to confide
it was the Queen herself. She received the information with a smile, but
straightway sent for the Nuncius Ubaldini, who at her desire instantly
despatched a special courier to Spinola with full particulars of the time
and mode of the proposed abduction.

Nevertheless the ingenuous Henry, confiding in the capacity of his deeply
offended queen to keep the secret which he had himself divulged, could
scarcely contain himself for joy.

Off he went to Saint-Germain with a train of coaches, impatient to get
the first news from de Coeuvres after the scheme should have been carried
into effect, and intending to travel post towards Flanders to meet and
welcome the Princess.

"Pleasant farce for Shrove Tuesday," wrote the secretary of Pecquius, "is
that which the Frenchmen have been arranging down there! He in whose
favour the abduction is to be made was seen going out the same day
spangled and smart, contrary to his usual fashion, making a gambado
towards Saint-Germain-en-Laye with four carriages and four to meet the
nymph."

Great was the King's wrath and mortification at this ridiculous exposure
of his detestable scheme. Vociferous were Villeroy's expressions of
Henry's indignation at being supposed to have had any knowledge of or
complicity in the affair. "His Majesty cannot approve of the means one
has taken to guard against a pretended plot for carrying off the
Princess," said the Secretary of State; "a fear which was simulated by
the Prince in order to defame the King." He added that there was no
reason to suspect the King, as he had never attempted anything of the
sort in his life, and that the Archduke might have removed the Princess
to his palace without sending an army to the hotel of the Prince of
Orange, and causing such an alarm in the city, firing artillery on the
rampart as if the town had been full of Frenchmen in arms, whereas one
was ashamed next morning to find that there had been but fifteen in all.
"But it was all Marquis Spinola's fault," he said, "who wished to show
himself off as a warrior."

The King, having thus through the mouth of his secretary of state warmly
protested against his supposed implication in the attempted abduction,
began as furiously to rail at de Coeuvres for its failure; telling the
Duc de Vendome that his uncle was an idiot, and writing that unlucky
envoy most abusive letters for blundering in the scheme which had been so
well concerted between them. Then he sent for Malherbe, who straightway
perpetrated more poems to express the King's despair, in which Henry was
made to liken himself to a skeleton with a dried skin, and likewise to a
violet turned up by the ploughshare and left to wither.

He kept up through Madame de Berny a correspondence with "his beautiful
angel," as he called the Princess, whom he chose to consider a prisoner
and a victim; while she, wearied to death with the frigid monotony and
sepulchral gaieties of the archiducal court, which she openly called her
"dungeon" diverted herself with the freaks and fantasies of her royal
adorer, called him in very ill-spelled letters "her chevalier, her heart,
her all the world," and frequently wrote to beg him, at the suggestion of
the intriguing Chateau Vert, to devise some means of rescuing her from
prison.

The Constable and Duchess meanwhile affected to be sufficiently satisfied
with the state of things. Conde, however, received a letter from the
King, formally summoning him to return to France, and, in case of
refusal, declaring him guilty of high-treason for leaving the kingdom
without the leave and against the express commands of the King. To this
letter, brought to him by de Coeuvres, the Prince replied by a paper,
drawn up and served by a notary of Brussels, to the effect that he had
left France to save his life and honour; that he was ready to return when
guarantees were given him for the security of both. He would live and
die, he said, faithful to the King. But when the King, departing from the
paths of justice, proceeded through those of violence against him, he
maintained that every such act against his person was null and invalid.
Henry had even the incredible meanness and folly to request the Queen to
write to the Archdukes, begging that the Princess might be restored to
assist at her coronation. Mary de' Medici vigorously replied once more
that, although obliged to wink at the King's amours, she declined to be
his procuress. Conde then went off to Milan very soon after the scene at
the Nassau Palace and the removal of the Princess to the care of the
Archdukes. He was very angry with his wife, from whom he expressed a
determination to be divorced, and furious with the King, the validity of
whose second marriage and the legitimacy of whose children he proposed
with Spanish help to dispute.

The Constable was in favour of the divorce, or pretended to be so, and
caused importunate letters to be written, which he signed, to both Albert
and Isabella, begging that his daughter might be restored to him to be
the staff of his old age, and likewise to be present at the Queen's
coronation. The Archdukes, however, resolutely refused to permit her to
leave their protection without Conde's consent, or until after a divorce
had been effected, notwithstanding that the father and aunt demanded it.
The Constable and Duchess however, acquiesced in the decision, and
expressed immense gratitude to Isabella.

"The father and aunt have been talking to Pecquius," said Henry very
dismally; "but they give me much pain. They are even colder than the
season, but my fire thaws them as soon as I approach."

"P. S.--I am so pining away in my anguish that I am nothing but skin and
bones. Nothing gives me pleasure. I fly from company, and if in order to
comply with the law of nations I go into some assembly or other, instead
of enlivening, it nearly kills me."--[Lettres missives de Henri vii.
834].

And the King took to his bed. Whether from gout, fever, or the pangs of
disappointed love, he became seriously ill. Furious with every one, with
Conde, the Constable, de Coeuvres, the Queen, Spinola, with the Prince of
Orange, whose councillor Keeremans had been encouraging Conde in his
rebellion and in going to Spain with Spinola, he was now resolved that
the war should go on. Aerssens, cautious of saying too much on paper of
this very delicate affair, always intimated to Barneveld that, if the
Princess could be restored, peace was still possible, and that by moving
an inch ahead of the King in the Cleve matter the States at the last
moment might be left in the lurch. He distinctly told the Advocate, on
his expressing a hope that Henry might consent to the Prince's residence
in some neutral place until a reconciliation could be effected, that the
pinch of the matter was not there, and that van der Myle, who knew all
about it, could easily explain it.

Alluding to the project of reviving the process against the Dowager, and
of divorcing the Prince and Princess, he said these steps would do much
harm, as they would too much justify the true cause of the retreat of the
Prince, who was not believed when he merely talked of his right of
primogeniture: "The matter weighs upon us very heavily," he said, "but
the trouble is that we don't search for the true remedies. The matter is
so delicate that I don't dare to discuss it to the very bottom."

The Ambassador had a long interview with the King as he lay in his bed
feverish and excited. He was more impatient than ever for the arrival of
the States' special embassy, reluctantly acquiesced in the reasons
assigned for the delay, but trusted that it would arrive soon with
Barneveld at the head, and with Count Lewis William as a member for "the
sword part of it."

He railed at the Prince of Orange, not believing that Keeremans would
have dared to do what he had done but with the orders of his master. He
said that the King of Spain would supply Conde with money and with
everything he wanted, knowing that he could make use of him to trouble
his kingdom. It was strange, he thought, that Philip should venture to
these extremities with his affairs in such condition, and when he had so
much need of repose. He recalled all his ancient grievances against
Spain, his rights to the Kingdom of Navarre and the County of St. Pol
violated; the conspiracy of Biron, the intrigues of Bouillon, the plots
of the Count of Auvergne and the Marchioness of Verneuil, the treason of
Meragne, the corruption of L'Hoste, and an infinity of other plots of the
King and his ministers; of deep injuries to him and to the public repose,
not to be tolerated by a mighty king like himself, with a grey beard. He
would be revenged, he said, for this last blow, and so for all the rest.
He would not leave a troublesome war on the hands of his young son. The
occasion was favourable. It was just to defend the oppressed princes with
the promptly accorded assistance of the States-General. The King of Great
Britain was favourable. The Duke of Savoy was pledged. It was better to
begin the war in his green old age than to wait the pleasure and
opportunity of the King of Spain.

All this he said while racked with fever, and dismissed the Envoy at
last, after a long interview, with these words: "Mr. Ambassador--I have
always spoken roundly and frankly to you, and you will one day be my
witness that I have done all that I could to draw the Prince out of the
plight into which he has put himself. But he is struggling for the
succession to this crown under instructions from the Spaniards, to whom
he has entirely pledged himself. He has already received 6000 crowns for
his equipment. I know that you and my other friends will work for the
conservation of this monarchy, and will never abandon me in my designs to
weaken the power of Spain. Pray God for my health."

The King kept his bed a few days afterwards, but soon recovered. Villeroy
sent word to Barneveld in answer to his suggestions of reconciliation
that it was too late, that Conde was entirely desperate and Spanish. The
crown of France was at stake, he said, and the Prince was promising
himself miracles and mountains with the aid of Spain, loudly declaring
the marriage of Mary de' Medici illegal, and himself heir to the throne.
The Secretary of State professed himself as impatient as his master for
the arrival of the embassy; the States being the best friends France ever
had and the only allies to make the war succeed.

Jeannin, who was now never called to the council, said that the war was
not for Germany but for Conde, and that Henry could carry it on for eight
years. He too was most anxious for Barneveld's arrival, and was of his
opinion that it would have been better for Conde to be persuaded to
remain at Breda and be supported by his brother-in-law, the Prince of
Orange. The impetuosity of the King had however swept everything before
it, and Conde had been driven to declare himself Spanish and a pretender
to the crown. There was no issue now but war.

Boderie, the King's envoy in Great Britain, wrote that James would be
willing to make a defensive league for the affairs of Cleve and Julich
only, which was the slenderest amount of assistance; but Henry always
suspected Master Jacques of intentions to baulk him if possible and
traverse his designs. But the die was cast. Spinola had carried off Conde
in triumph; the Princess was pining in her gilt cage in Brussels, and
demanding a divorce for desertion and cruel treatment; the King
considered himself as having done as much as honour allowed him to effect
a reconciliation, and it was obvious that, as the States' ambassador
said, he could no longer retire from the war without shame, which would
be the greatest danger of all.

"The tragedy is ready to begin," said Aerssens. "They are only waiting
now for the arrival of our ambassadors."

On the 9th March the King before going to Fontainebleau for a few days
summoned that envoy to the Louvre. Impatient at a slight delay in his
arrival, Henry came down into the courtyard as he was arriving and asked
eagerly if Barneveld was coming to Paris. Aerssens replied, that the
Advocate had been hastening as much as possible the departure of the
special embassy, but that the condition of affairs at home was such as
not to permit him to leave the country at that moment. Van der Myle, who
would be one of the ambassadors, would more fully explain this by word of
mouth.

The King manifested infinite annoyance and disappointment that Barneveld
was not to make part of the embassy. "He says that he reposes such
singular confidence in your authority in the state, experience in
affairs, and affection for himself," wrote Aerssens, "that he might treat
with you in detail and with open heart of all his designs. He fears now
that the ambassadors will be limited in their powers and instructions,
and unable to reply at once on the articles which at different times have
been proposed to me for our enterprise. Thus much valuable time will be
wasted in sending backwards and forwards."

The King also expressed great anxiety to consult with Count Lewis William
in regard to military details, but his chief sorrow was in regard to the
Advocate. "He acquiesced only with deep displeasure and regret in your
reasons," said the Ambassador, "and says that he can hope for nothing
firm now that you refuse to come."

Villeroy intimated that Barneveld did not come for fear of exciting the
jealousy of the English.

     ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

     He who spreads the snare always tumbles into the ditch himself
     Most detestable verses that even he had ever composed
     She declined to be his procuress




THE LIFE AND DEATH of JOHN OF BARNEVELD, ADVOCATE OF HOLLAND

WITH A VIEW OF THE PRIMARY CAUSES AND MOVEMENTS OF THE THIRTY YEARS' WAR

By John Lothrop Motley, D.C.L., LL.D.

The Life and Death of John of Barneveld, v3, 1610




CHAPTER IV.

   Difficult Position of Barneveld--Insurrection at Utrecht subdued by
   the States' Army--Special Embassies to England and France--Anger of
   the King with Spain and the Archdukes--Arrangements of Henry for the
   coming War--Position of Spain--Anxiety of the King for the Presence
   of Barneveld in Paris--Arrival of the Dutch Commissioners in France
   and their brilliant Reception--Their Interview with the King and his
   Ministers--Negotiations--Delicate Position of the Dutch Government--
   India Trade--Simon Danzer, the Corsair--Conversations of Henry with
   the Dutch Commissioners--Letter of the King to Archduke Albert--
   Preparations for the Queen's Coronation, and of Henry to open the
   Campaign in person--Perplexities of Henry--Forebodings and Warnings
   --The Murder accomplished--Terrible Change in France--Triumph of
   Concini and of Spain--Downfall of Sully--Disputes of the Grandees
   among themselves--Special Mission of Condelence from the Republic--
   Conference on the great Enterprise--Departure of van der Myle from
   Paris.

There were reasons enough why the Advocate could not go to Paris at this
juncture. It was absurd in Henry to suppose it possible. Everything
rested on Barneveld's shoulders. During the year which had just passed he
had drawn almost every paper, every instruction in regard to the peace
negotiations, with his own hand, had assisted at every conference, guided
and mastered the whole course of a most difficult and intricate
negotiation, in which he had not only been obliged to make allowance for
the humbled pride and baffled ambition of the ancient foe of the
Netherlands, but to steer clear of the innumerable jealousies,
susceptibilities, cavillings, and insolences of their patronizing
friends.

It was his brain that worked, his tongue that spoke, his restless pen
that never paused. His was not one of those easy posts, not unknown in
the modern administration of great affairs, where the subordinate
furnishes the intellect, the industry, the experience, while the bland
superior, gratifying the world with his sign-manual, appropriates the
applause. So long as he lived and worked, the States-General and the
States of Holland were like a cunningly contrived machine, which seemed
to be alive because one invisible but mighty mind vitalized the whole.

And there had been enough to do. It was not until midsummer of 1609 that
the ratifications of the Treaty of Truce, one of the great triumphs in
the history of diplomacy, had been exchanged, and scarcely had this
period been put to the eternal clang of arms when the death of a lunatic
threw the world once more into confusion. It was obvious to Barneveld
that the issue of the Cleve-Julich affair, and of the tremendous
religious fermentation in Bohemia, Moravia, and Austria, must sooner or
later lead to an immense war. It was inevitable that it would devolve
upon the States to sustain their great though vacillating, their generous
though encroaching, their sincere though most irritating, ally. And yet,
thoroughly as Barneveld had mastered all the complications and
perplexities of the religious and political question, carefully as he had
calculated the value of the opposing forces which were shaking
Christendom, deeply as he had studied the characters of Matthias and
Rudolph, of Charles of Denmark and Ferdinand of Graz, of Anhalt and
Maximilian, of Brandenburg and Neuburg, of James and Philip, of Paul V.
and Charles Emmanuel, of Sully and Yilleroy, of Salisbury and Bacon, of
Lerma and Infantado; adroitly as he could measure, weigh, and analyse all
these elements in the great problem which was forcing itself on the
attention of Europe--there was one factor with which it was difficult for
this austere republican, this cold, unsusceptible statesman, to deal: the
intense and imperious passion of a greybeard for a woman of sixteen.

For out of the cauldron where the miscellaneous elements of universal war
were bubbling rose perpetually the fantastic image of Margaret
Montmorency: the fatal beauty at whose caprice the heroic sword of Ivry
and Cahors was now uplifted and now sheathed.

Aerssens was baffled, and reported the humours of the court where he
resided as changing from hour to hour. To the last he reported that all
the mighty preparations then nearly completed "might evaporate in smoke"
if the Princess of Conde should come back. Every ambassador in Paris was
baffled. Peter Pecquius was as much in the dark as Don Inigo de Cardenas,
as Ubaldini or Edmonds. No one save Sully, Aerssens, Barneveld, and the
King knew the extensive arrangements and profound combinations which had
been made for the war. Yet not Sully, Aerssens, Barneveld, or the King,
knew whether or not the war would really be made.

Barneveld had to deal with this perplexing question day by day. His
correspondence with his ambassador at Henry's court was enormous, and we
have seen that the Ambassador was with the King almost daily; sleeping or
waking; at dinner or the chase; in the cabinet or the courtyard.

But the Advocate was also obliged to carry in his arms, as it were, the
brood of snarling, bickering, cross-grained German princes, to supply
them with money, with arms, with counsel, with brains; to keep them awake
when they went to sleep, to steady them in their track, to teach them to
go alone. He had the congress at Hall in Suabia to supervise and direct;
he had to see that the ambassadors of the new republic, upon which they
in reality were already half dependent and chafing at their dependence,
were treated with the consideration due to the proud position which the
Commonwealth had gained. Questions of etiquette were at that moment
questions of vitality. He instructed his ambassadors to leave the
congress on the spot if they were ranked after the envoys of princes who
were only feudatories of the Emperor. The Dutch ambassadors, "recognising
and relying upon no superiors but God and their sword," placed themselves
according to seniority with the representatives of proudest kings.

He had to extemporize a system of free international communication with
all the powers of the earth--with the Turk at Constantinople, with the
Czar of Muscovy; with the potentates of the Baltic, with both the Indies.
The routine of a long established and well organized foreign office in a
time-honoured state running in grooves; with well-balanced springs and
well oiled wheels, may be a luxury of civilization; but it was a more
arduous task to transact the greatest affairs of a state springing
suddenly into recognized existence and mainly dependent for its primary
construction and practical working on the hand of one man.

Worse than all, he had to deal on the most dangerous and delicate topics
of state with a prince who trembled at danger and was incapable of
delicacy; to show respect for a character that was despicable, to lean on
a royal word falser than water, to inhale almost daily the effluvia from
a court compared to which the harem of Henry was a temple of vestals. The
spectacle of the slobbering James among his Kars and Hays and Villiers's
and other minions is one at which history covers her eyes and is dumb;
but the republican envoys, with instructions from a Barneveld, were
obliged to face him daily, concealing their disgust, and bowing
reverentially before him as one of the arbiters of their destinies and
the Solomon of his epoch.

A special embassy was sent early in the year to England to convey the
solemn thanks of the Republic to the King for his assistance in the truce
negotiations, and to treat of the important matters then pressing on the
attention of both powers. Contemporaneously was to be despatched the
embassy for which Henry was waiting so impatiently at Paris.

Certainly the Advocate had enough with this and other, important business
already mentioned to detain him at his post. Moreover the first year of
peace had opened disastrously in the Netherlands. Tremendous tempests
such as had rarely been recorded even in that land of storms had raged
all the winter. The waters everywhere had burst their dykes and
inundations, which threatened to engulph the whole country, and which had
caused enormous loss of property and even of life, were alarming the most
courageous. It was difficult in many district to collect the taxes for
the every-day expenses of the community, and yet the Advocate knew that
the Republic would soon be forced to renew the war on a prodigious scale.

Still more to embarrass the action of the government and perplex its
statesmen, an alarming and dangerous insurrection broke out in Utrecht.

In that ancient seat of the hard-fighting, imperious, and opulent
sovereign archbishops of the ancient church an important portion of the
population had remained Catholic. Another portion complained of the
abolition of various privileges which they had formerly enjoyed; among
others that of a monopoly of beer-brewing for the province. All the
population, as is the case with all populations in all countries and all
epochs, complained of excessive taxation.

A clever politician, Dirk Kanter by name, a gentleman by birth, a scholar
and philosopher by pursuit and education, and a demagogue by profession,
saw an opportunity of taking an advantage of this state of things. More
than twenty years before he had been burgomaster of the city, and had
much enjoyed himself in that position. He was tired of the learned
leisure to which the ingratitude of his fellow-citizens had condemned
him. He seems to have been of easy virtue in the matter of religion, a
Catholic, an Arminian, an ultra orthodox Contra-Remonstrant by turns. He
now persuaded a number of determined partisans that the time had come for
securing a church for the public worship of the ancient faith, and at the
same time for restoring the beer brewery, reducing the taxes, recovering
lost privileges, and many other good things. Beneath the whole scheme lay
a deep design to effect the secession of the city and with it of the
opulent and important province of Utrecht from the Union. Kanter had been
heard openly to avow that after all the Netherlands had flourished under
the benign sway of the House of Burgundy, and that the time would soon
come for returning to that enviable condition.

By a concerted assault the city hall was taken possession of by main
force, the magistracy was overpowered, and a new board of senators and
common council-men appointed, Kanter and a devoted friend of his,
Heldingen by name, being elected burgomasters.

The States-Provincial of Utrecht, alarmed at these proceedings in the
city, appealed for protection against violence to the States-General
under the 3rd Article of the Union, the fundamental pact which bore the
name of Utrecht itself. Prince Maurice proceeded to the city at the head
of a detachment of troops to quell the tumults. Kanter and his friends
were plausible enough to persuade him of the legality and propriety of
the revolution which they had effected, and to procure his formal
confirmation of the new magistracy. Intending to turn his military genius
and the splendour of his name to account, they contrived to keep him for
a time at least in an amiable enthralment, and induced him to contemplate
in their interest the possibility of renouncing the oath which subjected
him to the authority of the States of Utrecht. But the far-seeing eye of
Barneveld could not be blind to the danger which at this crisis beset the
Stadholder and the whole republic. The Prince was induced to return to
the Hague, but the city continued by armed revolt to maintain the new
magistracy. They proceeded to reduce the taxes, and in other respects to
carry out the measures on the promise of which they had come into power.
Especially the Catholic party sustained Kanter and his friends, and
promised themselves from him and from his influence over Prince Maurice
to obtain a power of which they had long been deprived.

The States-General now held an assembly at Woerden, and summoned the
malcontents of Utrecht to bring before that body a statement of their
grievances. This was done, but there was no satisfactory arrangement
possible, and the deputation returned to Utrecht, the States-General to
the Hague. The States-Provincial of Utrecht urged more strongly than ever
upon the assembly of the Union to save the city from the hands of a
reckless and revolutionary government. The States-General resolved
accordingly to interfere by force. A considerable body of troops was
ordered to march at once upon Utrecht and besiege the city. Maurice, in
his capacity of captain-general and stadholder of the province, was
summoned to take charge of the army. He was indisposed to do so, and
pleaded sickness. The States, determined that the name of Nassau should
not be used as an encouragement to disobedience, and rebellion, then
directed the brother of Maurice, Frederic Henry, youngest son of William
the Silent, to assume the command. Maurice insisted that his brother was
too young, and that it was unjust to allow so grave a responsibility to
fall upon his shoulders. The States, not particularly pleased with the
Prince's attitude at this alarming juncture, and made anxious by the
glamour which seemed to possess him since his conferences with the
revolutionary party at Utrecht, determined not to yield.

The army marched forth and laid siege to the city, Prince Frederic Henry
at its head. He was sternly instructed by the States-General, under whose
orders he acted, to take possession of the city at all hazards. He was to
insist on placing there a garrison of 2000 foot and 300 horse, and to
permit not another armed man within the walls. The members of the council
of state and of the States of Utrecht accompanied the army. For a moment
the party in power was disposed to resist the forces of the Union. Dick
Kanter and his friends were resolute enough; the Catholic priests turned
out among the rest with their spades and worked on the entrenchments. The
impossibility of holding the city against the overwhelming power of the
States was soon obvious, and the next day the gates were opened, and easy
terms were granted. The new magistracy was set aside, the old board that
had been deposed by the rebels reinstated. The revolution and the
counterrevolution were alike bloodless, and it was determined that the
various grievances of which the discontented party had complained should
be referred to the States-General, to Prince Maurice, to the council of
state, and to the ambassadors of France and England. Amnesty was likewise
decreed on submission.

The restored government was Arminian in its inclinations, the
revolutionary one was singularly compounded both of Catholic and of
ultra-orthodox elements. Quiet was on the whole restored, but the
resources of the city were crippled. The event occurring exactly at the
crisis of the Clove and Julich expedition angered the King of France.

"The trouble of Utrecht," wrote Aerssens to Barneveld, "has been turned
to account here marvellously, the Archdukes and Spaniards boasting that
many more revolts like this may be at once expected. I have explained to
his Majesty, who has been very much alarmed about it, both its source and
the hopes that it will be appeased by the prudence of his Excellency
Prince Maurice and the deputies of the States. The King desires that
everything should be pacified as soon as possible, so that there may be
no embarrassment to the course of public affairs. But he fears, he tells
me, that this may create some new jealousy between Prince Maurice and
yourself. I don't comprehend what he means, although he held this
language to me very expressly and without reserve. I could only answer
that you were living on the best of terms together in perfect amity and
intelligence. If you know if this talk of his has any other root, please
to enlighten me, that I may put a stop to false reports, for I know
nothing of affairs except what you tell me."

King James, on the other hand, thoroughly approved the promptness of the
States-General in suppressing the tumult.

Nothing very serious of alike nature occurred in Utrecht until the end of
the year, when a determined and secret conspiracy was discovered, having
for its object to overpower the garrison and get bodily possession of
Colonel John Ogle, the military commander of the town. At the bottom of
the movement were the indefatigable Dirk Kanter and his friend Heldingen.
The attempt was easily suppressed, and the two were banished from the
town. Kanter died subsequently in North Holland, in the odour of
ultra-orthodoxy. Four of the conspirators--a post-master, two shoemakers,
and a sexton, who had bound themselves by oath to take the lives of two
eminent Arminian preachers, besides other desperate deeds--were condemned
to death, but pardoned on the scaffold. Thus ended the first revolution
at Utrecht.

Its effect did not cease, however, with the tumults which were its
original manifestations. This earliest insurrection in organized shape
against the central authority of the States-General; this violent though
abortive effort to dissolve the Union and to nullify its laws; this
painful necessity for the first time imposed upon the federal government
to take up arms against misguided citizens of the Republic, in order to
save itself from disintegration and national death, were destined to be
followed by far graver convulsions on the self-same spot. Religious
differences and religious hatreds were to mingle their poison with
antagonistic political theories and personal ambitions, and to develop on
a wide scale the danger ever lurking in a constitution whose fundamental
law was unstable, ill defined, and liable to contradictory
interpretations. For the present it need only be noticed that the
States-General, guided by Barneveld, most vigorously suppressed the local
revolt and the incipient secession, while Prince Maurice, the right arm
of the executive, the stadholder of the province, and the representative
of the military power of the Commonwealth, was languid in the exertion of
that power, inclined to listen to the specious arguments of the Utrecht
rebels, and accused at least of tampering with the fell spirit which the
Advocate was resolute to destroy. Yet there was no suspicion of treason,
no taint of rebellion, no accusation of unpatriotic motives uttered
against the Stadholder.

There was a doubt as to the true maxims by which the Confederacy was to
be governed, and at this moment, certainly, the Prince and the Advocate
represented opposite ideas. There was a possibility, at a future day,
when the religious and political parties might develop themselves on a
wider scale and the struggles grow fiercer, that the two great champions
in the conflict might exchange swords and inflict mutual and poisoned
wounds. At present the party of the Union had triumphed, with Barneveld
at its head. At a later but not far distant day, similar scenes might be
enacted in the ancient city of Utrecht, but with a strange difference and
change in the cast of parts and with far more tragical results.

For the moment the moderate party in the Church, those more inclined to
Arminianism and the supremacy of the civil authority in religious
matters, had asserted their ascendency in the States-General, and had
prevented the threatened rupture.

Meantime it was doubly necessary to hasten the special embassies to
France and to England, in both which countries much anxiety as to the
political health and strength of the new republic had been excited by
these troubles in Utrecht. It was important for the States-General to
show that they were not crippled, and would not shrink from the coming
conflict, but would justify the reliance placed on them by their allies.

Thus there were reasons enough why Barneveld could not himself leave the
country in the eventful spring of 1610. It must be admitted, however,
that he was not backward in placing his nearest relatives in places of
honour, trust, and profit.

His eldest son Reinier, Seignior of Groeneveld, had been knighted by
Henry IV.; his youngest, William, afterwards called Seignior of
Stoutenburg, but at this moment bearing the not very mellifluous title of
Craimgepolder, was a gentleman-in-waiting at that king's court, with a
salary of 3000 crowns a year. He was rather a favourite with the
easy-going monarch, but he gave infinite trouble to the Dutch ambassador
Aerssens, who, feeling himself under immense obligations to the Advocate
and professing for him boundless gratitude, did his best to keep the
idle, turbulent, extravagant, and pleasure-loving youth up to the strict
line of his duties.

"Your son is in debt again," wrote Aerssens, on one occasion, "and
troubled for money. He is in danger of going to the usurers. He says he
cannot keep himself for less than 200 crowns a month. This is a large
allowance, but he has spent much more than that. His life is not
irregular nor his dress remarkably extravagant. His difficulty is that he
will not dine regularly with me nor at court. He will keep his own table
and have company to dinner. That is what is ruining him. He comes
sometimes to me, not for the dinner nor the company, but for tennis,
which he finds better in my faubourg than in town. His trouble comes from
the table, and I tell you frankly that you must regulate his expenses or
they will become very onerous to you. I am ashamed of them and have told
him so a hundred times, more than if he had been my own brother. It is
all for love of you . . . . I have been all to him that could be expected
of a man who is under such vast obligations to you; and I so much esteem
the honour of your friendship that I should always neglect my private
affairs in order to do everything for your service and meet your desires
. . . . . If M. de Craimgepolder comes back from his visit home, you must
restrict him in two things, the table and tennis, and you can do this if
you require him to follow the King assiduously as his service requires."

Something at a future day was to be heard of William of Barneveld, as
well as of his elder brother Reinier, and it is good, therefore, to have
these occasional glimpses of him while in the service of the King and
under the supervision of one who was then his father's devoted friend,
Francis Aerssens. There were to be extraordinary and tragical changes in
the relations of parties and of individuals ere many years should go by.

Besides the sons of the Advocate, his two sons-in-law, Brederode,
Seignior of Veenhuizep, and Cornelis van der Myle, were constantly
employed? in important embassies. Van der Myle had been the first
ambassador to the great Venetian republic, and was now placed at the head
of the embassy to France, an office which it was impossible at that
moment for the Advocate to discharge. At the same critical moment
Barneveld's brother Elias, Pensionary of Rotterdam, was appointed one of
the special high commissioners to the King of Great Britain.

It is necessary to give an account of this embassy.

They were provided with luminous and minute instructions from the hand of
the Advocate.

They were, in the first place, and ostensibly, to thank the King for his
services in bringing about the truce, which, truly, had been of the
slightest, as was very well known. They were to explain, on the part of
the States, their delay in sending this solemn commission, caused by the
tardiness of the King of Spain in sending his ratification to the treaty,
and by the many disputations caused by the irresolutions of the Archdukes
and the obstinacy of their commissioners in regard to their many
contraventions of the treaty. After those commissioners had gone, further
hindrances had been found in the "extraordinary tempests, high floods,
rising of the waters, both of the ocean and the rivers, and the very
disastrous inundations throughout nearly all the United Provinces, with
the immense and exorbitant damage thus inflicted, both on the public and
on many individuals; in addition to all which were to be mentioned the
troubles in the city of Utrecht."

They were, in almost hyperbolical language, directed to express the
eternal gratitude of the States for the constant favours received by them
from the crown of England, and their readiness to stand forth at any
moment with sincere affection and to the utmost of their power, at all
times and seasons, in resistance of any attempts against his Majesty's
person or crown, or against the Prince of Wales or the royal family. They
were to thank him for his "prudent, heroic, and courageous resolve to
suffer nothing to be done under colour of justice, authority, or any
other pretext, to the hindrance of the Elector of Brandenburg and
Palatine of Neuburg, in the maintenance of their lawful rights and
possession of the principalities of Julich, Cleve, and Berg, and other
provinces."

By this course his Majesty, so the commissioners were to state, would put
an end to the imaginations of those who thought they could give the law
to everybody according to their pleasure.

They were to assure the King that the States-General would exert
themselves to the utmost to second his heroic resolution, notwithstanding
the enormous burthens of their everlasting war, the very exorbitant
damage caused by the inundations, and the sensible diminution in the
contributions and other embarrassments then existing in the country.

They were to offer 2000 foot and 500 horse for the general purpose under
Prince Henry of Nassau, besides the succours furnished by the King of
France and the electors and princes of Germany. Further assistance in
men, artillery, and supplies were promised under certain contingencies,
and the plan of the campaign on the Meuse in conjunction with the King of
France was duly mapped.

They were to request a corresponding promise of men and money from the
King of Great Britain, and they were to propose for his approval a closer
convention for mutual assistance between his Majesty, the United
Netherlands, the King of France, the electors and princes and other
powers of Germany; as such close union would be very beneficial to all
Christendom. It would put a stop to all unjust occupations, attempts, and
intrigues, and if the King was thereto inclined, he was requested to
indicate time and place for making such a convention.

The commissioners were further to point out the various contraventions on
the part of the Archdukes of the Treaty of Truce, and were to give an
exposition of the manner in which the States-General had quelled the
tumults at Utrecht, and reasons why such a course had of necessity been
adopted.

They were instructed to state that, "over and above the great expenses of
the late war and the necessary maintenance of military forces to protect
their frontiers against their suspected new friends or old enemies, the
Provinces were burthened with the cost of the succour to the Elector of
Brandenburg and Palatine of Neuburg, and would be therefore incapable of
furnishing the payments coming due to his Majesty. They were accordingly
to sound his Majesty as to whether a good part of the debt might not be
remitted or at least an arrangement made by which the terms should begin
to run only after a certain number of years."

They were also directed to open the subject of the fisheries on the
coasts of Great Britain, and to remonstrate against the order lately
published by the King forbidding all foreigners from fishing on those
coasts. This was to be set forth as an infringement both of natural law
and of ancient treaties, and as a source of infinite danger to the
inhabitants of the United Provinces.

The Seignior of Warmond, chief of the commission, died on the 15th April.
His colleagues met at Brielle on the 16th, ready to take passage to
England in the ship of war, the Hound. They were, however, detained there
six days by head winds and great storms, and it was not until the 22nd
that they were able to put to sea. The following evening their ship cast
anchor in Gravesend. Half an hour before, the Duke of Wurtemberg had
arrived from Flushing in a ship of war brought from France by the Prince
of Anhalt.

Sir Lewis Lewkener, master of ceremonies, had been waiting for the
ambassadors at Gravesend, and informed them that the royal barges were to
come next morning from London to take them to town. They remained that
night on board the Hound, and next morning, the wind blowing up the
river, they proceeded in their ship as far as Blackwall, where they were
formally received and bade welcome in the name of the King by Sir Thomas
Cornwallis and Sir George Carew, late ambassador in France. Escorted by
them and Sir Lewis, they were brought in the court barges to Tower Wharf.
Here the royal coaches were waiting, in which they were taken to lodgings
provided for them in the city at the house of a Dutch merchant. Noel de
Caron, Seignior of Schonewal, resident ambassador of the States in
London, was likewise there to greet them. This was Saturday night: On the
following Tuesday they went by appointment to the Palace of Whitehall in
royal carriages for their first audience. Manifestations of as entire
respect and courtesy had thus been made to the Republican envoys as could
be shown to the ambassadors of the greatest sovereigns. They found the
King seated on his throne in the audience chamber, accompanied by the
Prince of Wales, the Duke of York, the Lord High Treasurer and Lord High
Admiral, the Duke of Lenox, the Earls of Arundel and Northampton, and
many other great nobles and dignitaries. James rose from his seat, took
off his hat, and advanced several paces to meet the ambassadors, and bade
them courteously and respectfully welcome. He then expressed his regret
at the death of the Seignior of Warmond, and after the exchange of a few
commonplaces listened, still with uncovered head, to the opening address.

The spokesman, after thanking the King for his condolences on the death
of the chief commissioner, whom, as was stated with whimsical simplicity,
"the good God had called to Himself after all his luggage had been put on
board ship," proceeded in the French language to give a somewhat
abbreviated paraphrase of Barneveld's instructions.

When this was done and intimation made that they would confer more fully
with his Majesty's council on the subjects committed to their charge, the
ambassadors were conducted home with the same ceremonies as had
accompanied their arrival. They received the same day the first visit
from the ambassadors of France and Venice, Boderie and Carrero, and had a
long conference a few days afterwards with the High Treasurer, Lord
Salisbury.

On the 3rd May they were invited to attend the pompous celebration of the
festival of St. George in the palace at Westminster, where they were
placed together with the French ambassador in the King's oratorium; the
Dukes of Wurtemberg and Brunswick being in that of the Queen.

These details are especially to be noted, and were at the moment of
considerable importance, for this was the first solemn and extraordinary
embassy sent by the rebel Netherlanders, since their independent national
existence had been formally vindicated, to Great Britain, a power which a
quarter of a century before had refused the proffered sovereignty over
them. Placed now on exactly the same level with the representatives of
emperors and kings, the Republican envoys found themselves looked upon by
the world with different eyes from those which had regarded their
predecessors askance, and almost with derision, only seven years before.
At that epoch the States' commissioners, Barneveld himself at the head of
them, had gone solemnly to congratulate King James on his accession, had
scarcely been admitted to audience by king or minister, and had found
themselves on great festivals unsprinkled with the holy water of the
court, and of no more account than the crowd of citizens and spectators
who thronged the streets, gazing with awe at the distant radiance of the
throne.

But although the ambassadors were treated with every external
consideration befitting their official rank, they were not likely to find
themselves in the most genial atmosphere when they should come to
business details. If there was one thing in the world that James did not
intend to do, it was to get himself entangled in war with Spain, the
power of all others which he most revered and loved. His "heroic and
courageous resolve" to defend the princes, on which the commissioners by
instructions of the Advocate had so highly complimented him, was not
strong enough to carry him much beyond a vigorous phraseology. He had not
awoke from the delusive dream of the Spanish marriage which had
dexterously been made to flit before him, and he was not inclined, for
the sake of the Republic which he hated the more because obliged to be
one of its sponsors, to risk the animosity of a great power which
entertained the most profound contempt for him. He was destined to find
himself involved more closely than he liked, and through family ties,
with the great Protestant movement in Germany, and the unfortunate
"Winter King" might one day find his father-in-law as unstable a reed to
lean upon as the States had found their godfather, or the Brandenburgs
and Neuburgs at the present juncture their great ally. Meantime, as the
Bohemian troubles had not yet reached the period of actual explosion, and
as Henry's wide-reaching plan against the House of Austria had been
strangely enough kept an inviolable secret by the few statesmen, like
Sully and Barneveld, to whom they had been confided, it was necessary for
the King and his ministers to deal cautiously and plausibly with the
Dutch ambassadors. Their conferences were mere dancing among eggs, and if
no actual mischief were done, it was the best result that could be
expected.

On the 8th of May, the commissioners met in the council chamber at
Westminster, and discussed all the matters contained in their
instructions with the members of the council; the Lord Treasurer
Salisbury, Earl of Northampton, Privy Seal and Warden of the Cinque
Ports, Lord Nottingham, Lord High Admiral, the Lord Chamberlain, Earl of
Suffolk, Earls of Shrewsbury, Worcester, and several others being
present.

The result was not entirely satisfactory. In regard to the succour
demanded for the possessory princes, the commissioners were told that
they seemed to come with a long narrative of their great burthens during
the war, damage from inundations, and the like, to excuse themselves from
doing their share in the succour, and thus the more to overload his
Majesty, who was not much interested in the matter, and was likewise
greatly encumbered by various expenses. The King had already frankly
declared his intention to assist the princes with the payment of 4000
men, and to send proportionate artillery and powder from England. As the
States had supplies in their magazines enough to move 12,000 men, he
proposed to draw upon those, reimbursing the States for what was thus
consumed by his contingent.

With regard to the treaty of close alliance between France, Great
Britain, the princes, and the Republic, which the ambassadors had
proposed, the--Lord Treasurer and his colleagues gave a reply far from
gratifying. His Majesty had not yet decided on this point, they said. The
King of France had already proposed to treat for such an alliance, but it
did not at present seem worth while for all to negotiate together.

This was a not over-courteous hint that the Republic was after all not
expected to place herself at the council-board of kings on even terms of
intimacy and fraternal alliance.

What followed was even less flattering. If his Majesty, it was intimated,
should decide to treat with the King of France, he would not shut the
door on their High Mightinesses; but his Majesty was not yet exactly
informed whether his Majesty had not certain rights over the provinces
'in petitorio.'

This was a scarcely veiled insinuation against the sovereignty of the
States, a sufficiently broad hint that they were to be considered in a
certain degree as British provinces. To a soldier like Maurice, to a
statesman like Barneveld, whose sympathies already were on the side of
France, such rebuffs and taunts were likely to prove unpalatable. The
restiveness of the States at the continual possession by Great Britain of
those important sea-ports the cautionary towns, a fact which gave colour
to these innuendoes, was sure to be increased by arrogant language on the
part of the English ministers. The determination to be rid of their debt
to so overbearing an ally, and to shake off the shackles imposed by the
costly mortgages, grew in strength from that hour.

In regard to the fisheries, the Lord Treasurer and his colleagues
expressed amazement that the ambassadors should consider the subjects of
their High Mightinesses to be so much beloved by his Majesty. Why should
they of all other people be made an exception of, and be exempt from, the
action of a general edict? The reasons for these orders in council ought
to be closely examined. It would be very difficult to bring the opinions
of the English jurists into harmony with those of the States. Meantime it
would be well to look up such treaties as might be in existence, and have
a special joint commission to confer together on the subject. It was very
plain, from the course of the conversation, that the Netherland fishermen
were not to be allowed, without paying roundly for a license, to catch
herrings on the British coasts as they had heretofore done.

Not much more of importance was transacted at this first interview
between the ambassadors and the Ding's ministers. Certainly they had not
yet succeeded in attaining their great object, the formation of an
alliance offensive and defensive between Great Britain and the Republic
in accordance with the plan concerted between Henry and Barneveld. They
could find but slender encouragement for the warlike plans to which
France and the States were secretly committed; nor could they obtain
satisfactory adjustment of affairs more pacific and commercial in their
tendencies. The English ministers rather petulantly remarked that, while
last year everybody was talking of a general peace, and in the present
conjuncture all seemed to think, or at least to speak, of nothing but a
general war, they thought best to defer consideration of the various
subjects connected with duties on the manufactures and products of the
respective countries, the navigation laws, the "entrecours," and other
matters of ancient agreement and controversy, until a more convenient
season.

After the termination of the verbal conference, the ambassadors delivered
to the King's government, in writing, to be pondered by the council and
recorded in the archives, a summary of the statements which had been thus
orally treated. The document was in French, and in the main a paraphrase
of the Advocate's instructions, the substance of which has been already
indicated. In regard, however, to the far-reaching designs of Spain, and
the corresponding attitude which it would seem fitting for Great Britain
to assume, and especially the necessity of that alliance the proposal for
which had in the conference been received so haughtily, their language
was far plainer, bolder, and more vehement than that of the instructions.

"Considering that the effects show," they said, "that those who claim the
monarchy of Christendom, and indeed of the whole world, let slip no
opportunity which could in any way serve their designs, it is suitable to
the grandeur of his Majesty the King, and to the station in which by the
grace of the good God he is placed, to oppose himself thereto for the
sake of the common liberty of Christendom, to which end, and in order the
better to prevent all unjust usurpations, there could be no better means
devised than a closer alliance between his Majesty and the Most Christian
King, My Lords the States-General, and the electors, princes, and states
of Germany. Their High Mightinesses would therefore be most glad to learn
that his Majesty was inclined to such a course, and would be glad to
discuss the subject when and wherever his Majesty should appoint, or
would readily enter into such an alliance on reasonable conditions."

This language and the position taken up by the ambassadors were highly
approved by their government, but it was fated that no very great result
was to be achieved by this embassy. Very elaborate documents, exhaustive
in legal lore, on the subject of the herring fisheries, and of the right
to fish in the ocean and on foreign coasts, fortified by copious
citations from the 'Pandects' and 'Institutes' of Justinian, were
presented for the consideration of the British government, and were
answered as learnedly, exhaustively, and ponderously. The English
ministers were also reminded that the curing of herrings had been
invented in the fifteenth century by a citizen of Biervliet, the
inscription on whose tombstone recording that faces might still be read
in the church of that town.

All this did not prevent, however, the Dutch herring fishermen from being
excluded from the British waters unless they chose to pay for licenses.

The conferences were however for a season interrupted, and a new aspect
was given to affairs by an unforeseen and terrible event.

Meanwhile it is necessary to glance for a moment at the doings of the
special embassy to France, the instructions for which were prepared by
Barneveld almost at the same moment at which he furnished those for the
commission to England.

The ambassadors were Walraven, Seignior of Brederode, Cornelis van der
Myle, son-in-law of the Advocate, and Jacob van Maldere. Remembering how
impatient the King of France had long been for their coming, and that all
the preparations and decisions for a great war were kept in suspense
until the final secret conferences could be held with the representatives
of the States-General, it seems strange enough to us to observe the
extreme deliberation with which great affairs of state were then
conducted and the vast amount of time consumed in movements and
communications which modern science has either annihilated or abridged
from days to hours. While Henry was chafing with anxiety in Paris, the
ambassadors, having received Barneveld's instructions dated 31st March,
set forth on the 8th April from the Hague, reached Rotterdam at noon, and
slept at Dordrecht. Newt day they went to Breda, where the Prince of
Orange insisted upon their passing a couple of days with him in his
castle, Easter-day being 11th April. He then provided them with a couple
of coaches and pair in which they set forth on their journey, going by
way of Antwerp, Ghent, Courtray, Ryssel, to Arras, making easy stages,
stopping in the middle of the day to bait, and sleeping at each of the
cities thus mentioned, where they duly received the congratulatory visit
and hospitalities of their respective magistracies.

While all this time had been leisurely employed in the Netherlands in
preparing, instructing, and despatching the commissioners, affairs were
reaching a feverish crisis in France.

The States' ambassador resident thought that it would have been better
not to take such public offence at the retreat of the Prince of Conde.
The King had enough of life and vigour in him; he could afford to leave
the Dauphin to grow up, and when he should one day be established on the
throne, he would be able to maintain his heritage. "But," said Aerssens,
"I fear that our trouble is not where we say it is, and we don't dare to
say where it is." Writing to Carew, former English ambassador in Paris,
whom we have just seen in attendance on the States' commissioners in
London, he said: "People think that the Princess is wearying herself much
under the protection of the Infanta, and very impatient at not obtaining
the dissolution of her marriage, which the Duchess of Angouleme is to go
to Brussels to facilitate. This is not our business, but I mention it
only as the continuation of the Tragedy which you saw begin. Nevertheless
I don't know if the greater part of our deliberations is not founded on
this matter."

It had been decided to cause the Queen to be solemnly crowned after
Easter. She had set her heart with singular persistency upon the
ceremony, and it was thought that so public a sacrament would annihilate
all the wild projects attributed to Spain through the instrumentality of
Conde to cast doubts on the validity of her marriage and the legitimacy
of the Dauphin. The King from the first felt and expressed a singular
repugnance, a boding apprehension in regard to the coronation, but had
almost yielded to the Queen's importunity. He told her he would give his
consent provided she sent Concini to Brussels to invite in her own name
the Princess of Conde to be present on the occasion. Otherwise he
declared that at least the festival should be postponed till September.

The Marquis de Coeuvres remained in disgrace after the failure of his
mission, Henry believing that like all the world he had fallen in love
with the Princess, and had only sought to recommend himself, not to
further the suit of his sovereign.

Meanwhile Henry had instructed his ambassador in Spain, M. de Vaucelas,
to tell the King that his reception of Conde within his dominions would
be considered an infraction of the treaty of Vervins and a direct act of
hostility. The Duke of Lerma answered with a sneer that the Most
Christian King had too greatly obliged his Most Catholic Majesty by
sustaining his subjects in their rebellion and by aiding them to make
their truce to hope now that Conde would be sent back. France had ever
been the receptacle of Spanish traitors and rebels from Antonio Perez
down, and the King of Spain would always protect wronged and oppressed
princes like Conde. France had just been breaking up the friendly
relations between Savoy and Spain and goading the Duke into hostilities.

On the other hand the King had more than one stormy interview with Don
Inigo de Cardenas in Paris. That ambassador declared that his master
would never abandon his only sister the most serene Infanta, such was the
affection he born her, whose dominions were obviously threatened by these
French armies about to move to the frontiers. Henry replied that the
friends for whom he was arming had great need of his assistance; that his
Catholic Majesty was quite right to love his sister, whom he also loved;
but that he did not choose that his own relatives should be so much
beloved in Spain as they were. "What relatives?" asked Don Inigo. "The
Prince of Conde," replied the King, in a rage, "who has been debauched by
the Spaniards just as Marshal Biron was, and the Marchioness Verneuil,
and so many others. There are none left for them to debauch now but the
Dauphin and his brothers." The Ambassador replied that, if the King had
consulted him about the affair of Conde, he could have devised a happy
issue from it. Henry rejoined that he had sent messages on the subject to
his Catholic Majesty, who had not deigned a response, but that the Duke
of Lerma had given a very indiscreet one to his ambassador. Don Inigo
professed ignorance of any such reply. The King said it was a mockery to
affect ignorance of such matters. Thereupon both grew excited and very
violent in their discourses; the more so as Henry knowing but little
Spanish and the Envoy less French they could only understand from tone
and gesture that each was using exceedingly unpleasant language. At last
Don Inigo asked what he should write to his sovereign. "Whatever you
like," replied the King, and so the audience terminated, each remaining
in a towering passion.

Subsequently Villeroy assured the Archduke's ambassador that the King
considered the reception given to the Prince in the Spanish dominions as
one of the greatest insults and injuries that could be done to him.
Nothing could excuse it, said the Secretary of State, and for this reason
it was very difficult for the two kings to remain at peace with each
other, and that it would be wiser to prevent at once the evil designs of
his Catholic Majesty than to leave leisure for the plans to be put into
execution, and the claims of the Dauphin to his father's crown to be
disputed at a convenient season.

He added that war would not be made for the Princess, but for the Prince,
and that even the war in Germany, although Spain took the Emperor's side
and France that of the possessory princes, would not necessarily produce
a rupture between the two kings if it were not for this affair of the
Prince--true cause of the disaster now hanging over Christianity.
Pecquius replied by smooth commonplaces in favour of peace with which
Villeroy warmly concurred; both sadly expressing the conviction however
that the wrath divine had descended on them all on account of their sins.

A few days later, however, the Secretary changed his tone.

"I will speak to you frankly and clearly," he said to Pecquius, "and tell
you as from myself that there is passion, and if one is willing to
arrange the affair of the Princess, everything else can be accommodated
and appeased. Put if the Princess remain where she is, we are on the eve
of a rupture which may set fire to the four corners of Christendom."
Pecquius said he liked to talk roundly, and was glad to find that he had
not been mistaken in his opinion, that all these commotions were only
made for the Princess, and if all the world was going to war, she would
be the principal subject of it. He could not marvel sufficiently, he
said, at this vehement passion which brought in its train so great and
horrible a conflagration; adding many arguments to show that it was no
fault of the Archdukes, but that he who was the cause of all might one
day have reason to repent.

Villeroy replied that "the King believed the Princess to be suffering and
miserable for love of him, and that therefore he felt obliged to have her
sent back to her father." Pecquius asked whether in his conscience the
Secretary of State believed it right or reasonable to make war for such a
cause. Villeroy replied by asking "whether even admitting the negative,
the Ambassador thought it were wisely done for such a trifle, for a
formality, to plunge into extremities and to turn all Christendom upside
down." Pecquius, not considering honour a trifle or a formality, said
that "for nothing in the world would his Highness the Archduke descend to
a cowardly action or to anything that would sully his honour." Villeroy
said that the Prince had compelled his wife, pistol in hand, to follow
him to the Netherlands, and that she was no longer bound to obey a
husband who forsook country and king. Her father demanded her, and she
said "she would rather be strangled than ever to return to the company of
her husband." The Archdukes were not justified in keeping her against her
will in perpetual banishment. He implored the Ambassador in most pathetic
terms to devise some means of sending back the Princess, saying that he
who should find such expedient would do the greatest good that was ever
done to Christianity, and that otherwise there was no guarantee against a
universal war. The first design of the King had been merely to send a
moderate succour to the Princes of Brandenburg and Neuburg, which could
have given no umbrage to the Archdukes, but now the bitterness growing
out of the affairs of the Prince and Princess had caused him to set on
foot a powerful army to do worse. He again implored Pecquius to invent
some means of sending back the Princess, and the Ambassador besought him
ardently to divert the King from his designs. Of this the Secretary of
State left little hope and they parted, both very low and dismal in
mind. Subsequent conversations with the leading councillors of state
convinced Pecquius that these violent menaces were only used to shake the
constancy of the Archduke, but that they almost all highly disapproved
the policy of the King. "If this war goes on, we are all ruined," said
the Duke d'Epernon to the Nuncius.

Thus there had almost ceased to be any grimacing between the two kings,
although it was still a profound mystery where or when hostilities would
begin, and whether they would break out at all. Henry frequently remarked
that the common opinion all over Europe was working in his favour. Few
people in or out of France believed that he meant a rupture, or that his
preparations were serious. Thus should he take his enemies unawares and
unprepared. Even Aerssens, who saw him almost daily, was sometimes
mystified, in spite of Henry's vehement assertions that he was resolved
to make war at all hazards and on all sides, provided My Lords the States
would second him as they ought, their own existence being at stake.

"For God's sake," cried the King, "let us take the bit into our mouths.
Tell your masters that I am quite resolved, and that I am shrieking
loudly at their delays." He asked if he could depend on the States, if
Barneveld especially would consent to a league with him. The Ambassador
replied that for the affair of Cleve and Julich he had instructions to
promise entire concurrence, that Barneveld was most resolute in the
matter, and had always urged the enterprise and wished information as to
the levies making in France and other military preparations.

"Tell him," said Henry, "that they are going on exactly as often before
stated, but that we are holding everything in suspense until I have
talked with your ambassadors, from whom I wish counsel, safety, and
encouragement for doing much more than the Julich business. That alone
does not require so great a league and such excessive and unnecessary
expense."

The King observed however that the question of the duchies would serve as
just cause and excellent pretext to remove those troublesome fellows for
ever from his borders and those of the States. Thus the princes would be
established safely in their possession and the Republic as well as
himself freed from the perpetual suspicions which the Spaniards excited
by their vile intrigues, and it was on this general subject that he
wished to confer with the special commissioners. It would not be possible
for him to throw succour into Julich without passing through Luxemburg in
arms. The Archdukes would resist this, and thus a cause of war would
arise. His campaign on the Meuse would help the princes more than if he
should only aid them by the contingent he had promised. Nor could the
jealousy of King James be excited since the war would spring out of the
Archdukes' opposition to his passage towards the duchies, as he obviously
could not cut himself off from his supplies, leaving a hostile province
between himself and his kingdom. Nevertheless he could not stir, he said,
without the consent and active support of the States, on whom he relied
as his principal buttress and foundation.

The levies for the Milanese expedition were waiting until Marshal de
Lesdiguieres could confer personally with the Duke of Savoy. The reports
as to the fidelity of that potentate were not to be believed. He was
trifling with the Spanish ambassadors, so Henry was convinced, who were
offering him 300,000 crowns a year besides Piombino, Monaco, and two
places in the Milanese, if he would break his treaty with France. But he
was thought to be only waiting until they should be gone before making
his arrangements with Lesdiguieres. "He knows that he can put no trust in
Spain, and that he can confide in me," said the King. "I have made a
great stroke by thus entangling the King of Spain by the use of a few
troops in Italy. But I assure you that there is none but me and My Lords
the States that can do anything solid. Whether the Duke breaks or holds
fast will make no difference in our first and great designs. For the
honour of God I beg them to lose no more time, but to trust in me. I will
never deceive them, never abandon them."

At last 25,000 infantry and 5000 cavalry were already in marching order,
and indeed had begun to move towards the Luxemburg frontier, ready to
co-operate with the States' army and that of the possessory princes for
the campaign of the Meuse and Rhine.

Twelve thousand more French troops under Lesdiguieres were to act with
the Duke of Savoy, and an army as large was to assemble in the Pyrenees
and to operate on the Spanish frontier, in hope of exciting and fomenting
an insurrection caused by the expulsion of the Moors. That gigantic act
of madness by which Spain thought good at this juncture to tear herself
to pieces, driving hundreds of thousands of the most industrious, most
intelligent, and most opulent of her population into hopeless exile, had
now been accomplished, and was to stand prominent for ever on the records
of human fatuity.

Twenty-five thousand Moorish families had arrived at Bayonne, and the
Viceroy of Canada had been consulted as to the possibility and expediency
of establishing them in that province, although emigration thither seemed
less tempting to them than to Virginia. Certainly it was not unreasonable
for Henry to suppose that a kingdom thus torn by internal convulsions
might be more open to a well organized attack, than capable of carrying
out at that moment fresh projects of universal dominion.

As before observed, Sully was by no means in favour of this combined
series of movements, although at a later day, when dictating his famous
memoirs to his secretaries, he seems to describe himself as
enthusiastically applauding and almost originating them. But there is no
doubt at all that throughout this eventful spring he did his best to
concentrate the whole attack on Luxemburg and the Meuse districts, and
wished that the movements in the Milanese and in Provence should be
considered merely a slight accessory, as not much more than a diversion
to the chief design, while Villeroy and his friends chose to consider the
Duke of Savoy as the chief element in the war. Sully thoroughly
distrusted the Duke, whom he deemed to be always put up at auction
between Spain and France and incapable of a sincere or generous policy.
He was entirely convinced that Villeroy and Epernon and Jeannin and other
earnest Papists in France were secretly inclined to the cause of Spain,
that the whole faction of the Queen, in short, were urging this
scattering of the very considerable forces now at Henry's command in the
hope of bringing him into a false position, in which defeat or an
ignominious peace would be the alternative. To concentrate an immense
attack upon the Archdukes in the Spanish Netherlands and the debateable
duchies would have for its immediate effect the expulsion of the
Spaniards out of all those provinces and the establishment of the Dutch
commonwealth on an impregnable basis. That this would be to strengthen
infinitely the Huguenots in France and the cause of Protestantism in
Bohemia, Moravia and Austria, was unquestionable. It was natural,
therefore, that the stern and ardent Huguenot should suspect the plans of
the Catholics with whom he was in daily council. One day he asked the
King plumply in the presence of Villeroy if his Majesty meant anything
serious by all these warlike preparations. Henry was wroth, and
complained bitterly that one who knew him to the bottom of his soul
should doubt him. But Sully could not persuade himself that a great and
serious war would be carried on both in the Netherlands and in Italy.

As much as his sovereign he longed for the personal presence of
Barneveld, and was constantly urging the States' ambassador to induce his
coming to Paris. "You know," said Aerssens, writing to the French
ambassador at the Hague, de Russy, "that it is the Advocate alone that
has the universal knowledge of the outside and the inside of our
commonwealth."

Sully knew his master as well as any man knew him, but it was difficult
to fix the chameleon hues of Henry at this momentous epoch. To the
Ambassador expressing doubts as to the King's sincerity the Duke asserted
that Henry was now seriously piqued with the Spaniard on account of the
Conde business. Otherwise Anhalt and the possessory princes and the
affair of Cleve might have had as little effect in driving him into war
as did the interests of the Netherlands in times past. But the bold
demonstration projected would make the "whole Spanish party bleed at the
nose; a good result for the public peace."

Therefore Sully sent word to Barneveld, although he wished his name
concealed, that he ought to come himself, with full powers to do
everything, without referring to any superiors or allowing any secrets to
be divulged. The King was too far committed to withdraw, unless coldness
on part of the States should give him cause. The Advocate must come
prepared to answer all questions; to say how much in men and money the
States would contribute, and whether they would go into the war with the
King as their only ally. He must come with the bridle on his neck. All
that Henry feared was being left in the lurch by the States; otherwise he
was not afraid of Rome. Sully was urgent that the Provinces should now go
vigorously into the war without stumbling at any consideration. Thus they
would confirm their national power for all time, but if the opportunity
were now lost, it would be their ruin, and posterity would most justly
blame them. The King of Spain was so stripped of troops and resources, so
embarrassed by the Moors, that in ten months he would not be able to send
one man to the Netherlands.

Meantime the Nuncius in Paris was moving heaven and earth; storming,
intriguing, and denouncing the course of the King in protecting heresy,
when it would have been so easy to extirpate it, encouraging rebellion
and disorder throughout Christendom, and embarking in an action against
the Church and against his conscience. A new legate was expected daily
with the Pope's signature to the new league, and a demand upon the King
to sign it likewise, and to pause in a career of which something was
suspected, but very little accurately known. The preachers in Paris and
throughout the kingdom delivered most vehement sermons against the King,
the government, and the Protestants, and seemed to the King to be such
"trumpeters of sedition" that he ordered the seneschals and other
officers to put a stop to these turbulent discourses, censure their
authors, and compel them to stick to their texts.

But the preparations were now so far advanced and going on so warmly that
nothing more was wanting than, in the words of Aerssens, "to uncouple the
dogs and let them run." Recruits were pouring steadily to their places of
rendezvous; their pay having begun to run from the 25th March at the rate
of eight sous a day for the private foot soldier and ten sous for a
corporal. They were moved in small parties of ten, lodged in the wayside
inns, and ordered, on pain of death, to pay for everything they consumed.

It was growing difficult to wait much longer for the arrival of the
special ambassadors, when at last they were known to be on their way.
Aerssens obtained for their use the Hotel Gondy, formerly the residence
of Don Pedro de Toledo, the most splendid private palace in Paris, and
recently purchased by the Queen. It was considered expedient that the
embassy should make as stately an appearance as that of royal or imperial
envoys. He engaged an upholsterer by the King's command to furnish, at
his Majesty's expense, the apartments, as the Baron de Gondy, he said,
had long since sold and eaten up all the furniture. He likewise laid in
six pieces of wine and as many of beer, "tavern drinks" being in the
opinion of the thrifty ambassador "both dear and bad."

He bought a carriage lined with velvet for the commissioners, and another
lined with broadcloth for the principal persons of their suite, and with
his own coach as a third he proposed to go to Amiens to meet them. They
could not get on with fewer than these, he said, and the new carriages
would serve their purpose in Paris. He had paid 500 crowns for the two,
and they could be sold, when done with, at a slight loss. He bought
likewise four dapple-grey horses, which would be enough, as nobody had
more than two horses to a carriage in town, and for which he paid 312
crowns--a very low price, he thought, at a season when every one was
purchasing. He engaged good and experienced coachmen at two crowns a
month, and; in short, made all necessary arrangements for their comfort
and the honour of the state.

The King had been growing more and more displeased at the tardiness of
the commission, petulantly ascribing it to a design on the part of the
States to "excuse themselves from sharing in his bold conceptions," but
said that "he could resolve on nothing without My Lords the States, who
were the only power with which he could contract confidently, as mighty
enough and experienced enough to execute the designs to be proposed to
them; so that his army was lying useless on his hands until the
commissioners arrived," and lamented more loudly than ever that Barneveld
was not coming with them. He was now rejoiced, however, to hear that they
would soon arrive, and went in person to the Hotel Gondy to see that
everything was prepared in a manner befitting their dignity and comfort.

His anxiety had moreover been increased, as already stated, by the
alarming reports from Utrecht and by his other private accounts from the
Netherlands.

De Russy expressed in his despatches grave doubts whether the States
would join the king in a war against the King of Spain, because they
feared the disapprobation of the King of Great Britain, "who had already
manifested but too much jealousy of the power and grandeur of the
Republic." Pecquius asserted that the Archdukes had received assurances
from the States that they would do nothing to violate the truce. The
Prince of Anhalt, who, as chief of the army of the confederated princes,
was warm in his demonstrations for a general war by taking advantage of
the Cleve expedition, was entirely at cross purposes with the States'
ambassador in Paris, Aerssens maintaining that the forty-three years'
experience in their war justified the States in placing no dependence on
German princes except with express conventions. They had no such
conventions now, and if they should be attacked by Spain in consequence
of their assistance in the Cleve business, what guarantee of aid had they
from those whom Anhalt represented? Anhalt was loud in expressions of
sympathy with Henry's designs against Spain, but said that he and the
States meant a war of thirty or forty years, while the princes would
finish what they meant to do in one.

A more erroneous expression of opinion, when viewed in the light of
subsequent events, could hardly have been hazarded. Villeroy made as good
use as he could of these conversations to excite jealousy between the
princes and the States for the furtherance of his own ends, while
affecting warm interest in the success of the King's projects.

Meantime Archduke Albert had replied manfully and distinctly to the
menaces of the King and to the pathetic suggestions made by Villeroy to
Pecquius as to a device for sending back the Princess. Her stay at
Brussels being the chief cause of the impending war, it would be better,
he said, to procure a divorce or to induce the Constable to obtain the
consent of the Prince to the return of his wife to her father's house. To
further either of these expedients, the Archduke would do his best. "But
if one expects by bravados and threats," he added, "to force us to do a
thing against our promise, and therefore against reason, our reputation,
and honour, resolutely we will do nothing of the kind. And if the said
Lord King decided on account of this misunderstanding for a rupture and
to make war upon us, we will do our best to wage war on him. In such
case, however, we shall be obliged to keep the Princess closer in our own
house, and probably to send her to such parts as may be most convenient
in order to remove from us an instrument of the infinite evils which this
war will produce."

Meantime the special commissioners whom we left at Arras had now entered
the French kingdom.

On the 17th April, Aerssens with his three coaches met them on their
entrance into Amiens, having been waiting there for them eight days. As
they passed through the gate, they found a guard of soldiers drawn up to
receive them with military honours, and an official functionary to
apologize for the necessary absence of the governor, who had gone with
most of the troops stationed in the town to the rendezvous in Champagne.
He expressed regret, therefore, that the King's orders for their solemn
reception could not be literally carried out. The whole board of
magistrates, however, in their costumes of ceremony, with sergeants
bearing silver maces marching before them, came forth to bid the
ambassadors welcome. An advocate made a speech in the name of the city
authorities, saying that they were expressly charged by the King to
receive them as coming from his very best friends, and to do them all
honour. He extolled the sage government of their High Mightinesses and
the valour of the Republic, which had become known to the whole world by
the successful conduct of their long and mighty war.

The commissioners replied in words of compliment, and the magistrates
then offered them, according to ancient usage, several bottles of
hippocras.

Next day, sending back the carriages of the Prince of Orange, in which
they had thus far performed the journey, they set forth towards Paris,
reaching Saint-Denis at noon of the third day. Here they were met by de
Bonoeil, introducer of ambassadors, sent thither by the King to give them
welcome, and to say that they would be received on the road by the Duke
of Vendome, eldest of the legitimatized children of the King. Accordingly
before reaching the Saint-Denis gate of Paris, a splendid cavalcade of
nearly five hundred noblemen met them, the Duke at their head,
accompanied by two marshals of France, de Brissac and Boisdaulphin. The
three instantly dismounted, and the ambassadors alighted from their
coach. The Duke then gave them solemn and cordial welcome, saying that he
had been sent by his father the King to receive them as befitted envoys
of the best and most faithful friends he possessed in the world.

The ambassadors expressed their thanks for the great and extraordinary
honour thus conferred on them, and they were then requested to get into a
royal carriage which had been sent out for that purpose. After much
ceremonious refusal they at last consented and, together with the Duke of
Vendome, drove through Paris in that vehicle into the Faubourg Saint
Germain. Arriving at the Hotel Gondy, they were, notwithstanding all
their protestations, escorted up the staircase into the apartments by the
Duke.

"This honour is notable," said the commissioners in their report to the
States, "and never shown to anyone before, so that our ill-wishers are
filled with spite."

And Peter Pecquius was of the same opinion. "Everyone is grumbling here,"
about the reception of the States' ambassadors, "because such honours
were never paid to any ambassador whatever, whether from Spain, England,
or any other country."

And there were many men living and employed in great affairs of State,
both in France and in the Republic--the King and Villeroy, Barneveld and
Maurice--who could remember how twenty-six years before a solemn embassy
from the States had proceeded from the Hague to France to offer the
sovereignty of their country to Henry's predecessor, had been kept
ignominiously and almost like prisoners four weeks long in Rouen, and had
been thrust back into the Netherlands without being admitted even to one
audience by the monarch. Truly time, in the course of less than one
generation of mankind, had worked marvellous changes in the fortunes of
the Dutch Republic.

President Jeannin came to visit them next day, with friendly proffers of
service, and likewise the ambassador of Venice and the charge d'affaires
of Great Britain.

On the 22nd the royal carriages came by appointment to the Hotel Gondy,
and took them for their first audience to the Louvre. They were received
at the gate by a guard of honour, drums beating and arms presented, and
conducted with the greatest ceremony to an apartment in the palace. Soon
afterwards they were ushered into a gallery where the King stood,
surrounded by a number of princes and distinguished officers of the
crown. These withdrew on the approach of the Netherlanders, leaving the
King standing alone. They made their reverence, and Henry saluted them
all with respectful cordiality. Begging them to put on their hats again,
he listened attentively to their address.

The language of the discourse now pronounced was similar in tenour to
that almost contemporaneously held by the States' special envoys in
London. Both documents, when offered afterwards in writing, bore the
unmistakable imprint of the one hand that guided the whole political
machine. In various passages the phraseology was identical, and, indeed,
the Advocate had prepared and signed the instructions for both embassies
on the same day.

The commissioners acknowledged in the strongest possible terms the great
and constant affection, quite without example, that Henry had manifested
to the Netherlands during the whole course of their war. They were at a
loss to find language adequately to express their gratitude for that
friendship, and the assistance subsequently afforded them in the
negotiations for truce. They apologized for the tardiness of the States
in sending this solemn embassy of thanksgiving, partly on the ground of
the delay in receiving the ratifications from Spain, partly by the
protracted contraventions by the Archdukes of certain articles in the
treaty, but principally by the terrible disasters occasioned throughout
their country by the great inundations, and by the commotions in the city
of Utrecht, which had now been "so prudently and happily pacified."

They stated that the chief cause of their embassy was to express their
respectful gratitude, and to say that never had prince or state treasured
more deeply in memory benefits received than did their republic the
favours of his Majesty, or could be more disposed to do their utmost to
defend his Majesty's person, crown, or royal family against all attack.
They expressed their joy that the King had with prudence, and heroic
courage undertaken the defence of the just rights of Brandenburg and
Neuburg to the duchies of Cleve, Julich, and the other dependent
provinces. Thus had he put an end to the presumption of those who thought
they could give the law to all the world. They promised the co-operation
of the States in this most important enterprise of their ally,
notwithstanding their great losses in the war just concluded, and the
diminution of revenue occasioned by the inundations by which they had
been afflicted; for they were willing neither to tolerate so unjust an
usurpation as that attempted by the Emperor nor to fail to second his
Majesty in his generous designs. They observed also that they had been
instructed to enquire whether his Majesty would not approve the
contracting of a strict league of mutual assistance between France,
England, the United Provinces, and the princes of Germany.

The King, having listened with close attention, thanked the envoys in
words of earnest and vigorous cordiality for their expressions of
affection to himself. He begged them to remember that he had always been
their good friend, and that he never would forsake them; that he had
always hated the Spaniards, and should ever hate them; and that the
affairs of Julich must be arranged not only for the present but for the
future. He requested them to deliver their propositions in writing to
him, and to be ready to put themselves into communication with the
members of his council, in order that they might treat with each other
roundly and without reserve. He should always deal with the Netherlanders
as with his own people, keeping no back-door open, but pouring out
everything as into the lap of his best and most trusty friends.

After this interview conferences followed daily between the ambassadors
and Villeroy, Sully, Jeannin, the Chancellor, and Puysieug.

The King's counsellors, after having read the written paraphrase of
Barneveld's instructions, the communication of which followed their oral
statements, and which, among other specifications, contained a respectful
remonstrance against the projected French East India Company, as likely
to benefit the Spaniards only, while seriously injuring the States,
complained that "the representations were too general, and that the paper
seemed to contain nothing but compliments."

The ambassadors, dilating on the various points and articles, maintained
warmly that there was much more than compliments in their instructions.
The ministers wished to know what the States practically were prepared to
do in the affair of Cleve, which they so warmly and encouragingly
recommended to the King. They asked whether the States' army would march
at once to Dusseldorf to protect the princes at the moment when the King
moved from Mezieres, and they made many enquiries as to what amount of
supplies and munitions they could depend upon from the States' magazines.

The envoys said that they had no specific instructions on these points,
and could give therefore no conclusive replies. More than ever did Henry
regret the absence of the great Advocate at this juncture. If he could
have come, with the bridle on his neck, as Henry had so repeatedly urged
upon the resident ambassador, affairs might have marched more rapidly.
The despotic king could never remember that Barneveld was not the
unlimited sovereign of the United States, but only the seal-keeper of one
of the seven provinces and the deputy of Holland to the General Assembly.
His indirect power, however vast, was only great because it was so
carefully veiled.

It was then proposed by Villeroy and Sully, and agreed to by the
commissioners, that M. de Bethune, a relative of the great financier,
should be sent forthwith to the Hague, to confer privately with Prince
Maurice and Barneveld especially, as to military details of the coming
campaign.

It was also arranged that the envoys should delay their departure until
de Bethune's return. Meantime Henry and the Nuncius had been exchanging
plain and passionate language. Ubaldini reproached the King with
disregarding all the admonitions of his Holiness, and being about to
plunge Christendom into misery and war for the love of the Princess of
Conde. He held up to him the enormity of thus converting the King of
Spain and the Archdukes into his deadly enemies, and warned him that he
would by such desperate measures make even the States-General and the
King of Britain his foes, who certainly would never favour such schemes.
The King replied that "he trusted to his own forces, not to those of his
neighbours, and even if the Hollanders should not declare for him still
he would execute his designs. On the 15th of May most certainly he would
put himself at the head of his army, even if he was obliged to put off
the Queen's coronation till October, and he could not consider the King
of Spain nor the Archdukes his friends unless they at once made him some
demonstration of friendship. Being asked by the Nuncius what
demonstration he wished, he answered flatly that he wished the Princess
to be sent back to the Constable her father, in which case the affair of
Julich could be arranged amicably, and, at all events, if the war
continued there, he need not send more than 4000 men."

Thus, in spite of his mighty preparations, vehement demands for
Barneveld, and profound combinations revealed to that statesman, to
Aerssens, and to the Duke of Sully only, this wonderful monarch was ready
to drop his sword on the spot, to leave his friends in the lurch, to
embrace his enemies, the Archduke first of all, instead of bombarding
Brussels the very next week, as he had been threatening to do, provided
the beautiful Margaret could be restored to his arms through those of her
venerable father.

He suggested to the Nuncius his hope that the Archduke would yet be
willing to wink at her escape, which he was now trying to arrange through
de Preaux at Brussels, while Ubaldini, knowing the Archduke incapable of
anything so dishonourable, felt that the war was inevitable.

At the very same time too, Father Cotton, who was only too ready to
betray the secrets of the confessional when there was an object to gain,
had a long conversation with the Archduke's ambassador, in which the holy
man said that the King had confessed to him that he made the war
expressly to cause the Princess to be sent back to France, so that as
there could be no more doubt on the subject the father-confessor begged
Pecquius, in order to prevent so great an evil, to devise "some prompt
and sudden means to induce his Highness the Archduke to order the
Princess to retire secretly to her own country." The Jesuit had different
notions of honour, reputation, and duty from those which influenced the
Archduke. He added that "at Easter the King had been so well disposed to
seek his salvation that he could easily have forgotten his affection for
the Princess, had she not rekindled the fire by her letters, in which she
caressed him with amorous epithets, calling him 'my heart,' 'my
chevalier,' and similar terms of endearment." Father Cotton also drew up
a paper, which he secretly conveyed to Pecquius, "to prove that the
Archduke, in terms of conscience and honour, might decide to permit this
escape, but he most urgently implored the Ambassador that for the love of
God and the public good he would influence his Serene Highness to prevent
this from ever coming to the knowledge of the world, but to keep the
secret inviolably."

Thus, while Henry was holding high council with his own most trusted
advisers, and with the most profound statesmen of Europe, as to the
opening campaign within a fortnight of a vast and general war, he was
secretly plotting with his father-confessor to effect what he avowed to
be the only purpose of that war, by Jesuitical bird-lime to be applied to
the chief of his antagonists. Certainly Barneveld and his colleagues were
justified in their distrust. To move one step in advance of their potent
but slippery ally might be a step off a precipice.

On the 1st of May, Sully made a long visit to the commissioners. He
earnestly urged upon them the necessity of making the most of the present
opportunity. There were people in plenty, he said, who would gladly see
the King take another course, for many influential persons about him were
altogether Spanish in their inclinations.

The King had been scandalized to hear from the Prince of Anhalt, without
going into details, that on his recent passage through the Netherlands he
had noticed some change of feeling, some coolness in their High
Mightinesses. The Duke advised that they should be very heedful, that
they should remember how much more closely these matters regarded them
than anyone else, that they should not deceive themselves, but be firmly
convinced that unless they were willing to go head foremost into the
business the French would likewise not commit themselves. Sully spoke
with much earnestness and feeling, for it was obvious that both he and
his master had been disappointed at the cautious and limited nature of
the instructions given to the ambassadors.

An opinion had indeed prevailed, and, as we have seen, was to a certain
extent shared in by Aerssens, and even by Sully himself, that the King's
military preparations were after all but a feint, and that if the Prince
of Conde, and with him the Princess, could be restored to France, the
whole war cloud would evaporate in smoke.

It was even asserted that Henry had made a secret treaty with the enemy,
according to which, while apparently ready to burst upon the House of
Austria with overwhelming force, he was in reality about to shake hands
cordially with that power, on condition of being allowed to incorporate
into his own kingdom the very duchies in dispute, and of receiving the
Prince of Conde and his wife from Spain. He was thus suspected of being
about to betray his friends and allies in the most ignoble manner and for
the vilest of motives. The circulation of these infamous reports no doubt
paralysed for a time the energy of the enemy who had made no requisite
preparations against the threatened invasion, but it sickened his friends
with vague apprehensions, while it cut the King himself to the heart and
infuriated him to madness.

He asked the Nuncius one day what people thought in Rome and Italy of the
war about to be undertaken. Ubaldini replied that those best informed
considered the Princess of Conde as the principal subject of hostilities;
they thought that he meant to have her back. "I do mean to have her
back," cried Henry, with a mighty oath, and foaming with rage, "and I
shall have her back. No one shall prevent it, not even the Lieutenant of
God on earth."

But the imputation of this terrible treason weighed upon his mind and
embittered every hour.

The commissioners assured Sully that they had no knowledge of any
coolness or change such as Anhalt had reported on the part of their
principals, and the Duke took his leave.

It will be remembered that Villeroy had, it was thought, been making
mischief between Anhalt and the States by reporting and misreporting
private conversations between that Prince and the Dutch ambassador.

As soon as Sully had gone, van der Myle waited upon Villeroy to ask, in
name of himself and colleagues, for audience of leave-taking, the object
of their mission having been accomplished. The Secretary of State, too,
like Sully, urged the importance of making the most of the occasion. The
affair of Cleve, he said, did not very much concern the King, but his
Majesty had taken it to heart chiefly on account of the States and for
their security. They were bound, therefore, to exert themselves to the
utmost, but more would not be required of them than it would be possible
to fulfil.

Van der Myle replied that nothing would be left undone by their High
Mightinesses to support the King faithfully and according to their
promise.

On the 5th, Villeroy came to the ambassadors, bringing with him a letter
from the King for the States-General, and likewise a written reply to the
declarations made orally and in writing by the ambassadors to his
Majesty.

The letter of Henry to "his very dear and good friends, allies, and
confederates," was chiefly a complimentary acknowledgment of the
expressions of gratitude made to him on part of the States-General, and
warm approbation of their sage resolve to support the cause of
Brandenburg and Neuburg. He referred them for particulars to the
confidential conferences held between the commissioners and himself. They
would state how important he thought it that this matter should be
settled now so thoroughly as to require no second effort at any future
time when circumstances might not be so propitious; and that he intended
to risk his person, at the head of his army, to accomplish this result.

To the ambassadors he expressed his high satisfaction at their assurances
of affection, devotion, and gratitude on the part of the States. He
approved and commended their resolution to assist the Elector and the
Palatine in the affair of the duchies. He considered this a proof of
their prudence and good judgment, as showing their conviction that they
were more interested and bound to render this assistance than any other
potentates or states, as much from the convenience and security to be
derived from the neighbourhood of princes who were their friends as from
dangers to be apprehended from other princes who were seeking to
appropriate those provinces. The King therefore begged the States to move
forward as soon as possible the forces which they offered for this
enterprise according to his Majesty's suggestion sent through de Bethune.
The King on his part would do the same with extreme care and diligence,
from the anxiety he felt to prevent My Lords the States from receiving
detriment in places so vital to their preservation.

He begged the States likewise to consider that it was meet not only to
make a first effort to put the princes into entire possession of the
duchies, but to provide also for the durable success of the enterprise;
to guard against any invasions that might be made in the future to eject
those princes. Otherwise all their present efforts would be useless; and
his Majesty therefore consented on this occasion to enter into the new
league proposed by the States with all the princes and states mentioned
in the memoir of the ambassadors for mutual assistance against all unjust
occupations, attempts, and baneful intrigues.

Having no special information as to the infractions by the Archdukes of
the recent treaty of truce, the King declined to discuss that subject for
the moment, although holding himself bound to all required of him as one
of the guarantees of that treaty.

In regard to the remonstrance made by the ambassadors concerning the
trade of the East Indies, his Majesty disclaimed any intention of doing
injury to the States in permitting his subjects to establish a company in
his kingdom for that commerce. He had deferred hitherto taking action in
the matter only out of respect to the States, but he could no longer
refuse the just claims of his subjects if they should persist in them as
urgently as they had thus far been doing. The right and liberty which
they demanded was common to all, said the King, and he was certainly
bound to have as great care for the interests of his subjects as for
those of his friends and allies.

Here, certainly, was an immense difference in tone and in terms towards
the Republic adopted respectively by their great and good friends and
allies the Kings of France and Great Britain. It was natural enough that
Henry, having secretly expressed his most earnest hope that the States
would move at his side in his broad and general assault upon the House of
Austria, should impress upon them his conviction, which was a just one,
that no power in the world was more interested in keeping a Spanish and
Catholic prince out of the duchies than they were themselves. But while
thus taking a bond of them as it were for the entire fulfilment of the
primary enterprise, he accepted with cordiality, and almost with
gratitude, their proposition of a close alliance of the Republic with
himself and with the Protestant powers which James had so superciliously
rejected.

It would have been difficult to inflict a more petty and, more studied
insult upon the Republic than did the King of Great Britain at that
supreme moment by his preposterous claim of sovereign rights over the
Netherlands. He would make no treaty with them, he said, but should he
find it worth while to treat with his royal brother of France, he should
probably not shut the door in their faces.

Certainly Henry's reply to the remonstrances of the ambassadors in regard
to the India trade was as moderate as that of James had been haughty and
peremptory in regard to the herring fishery. It is however sufficiently
amusing to see those excellent Hollanders nobly claiming that "the sea
was as free as air" when the right to take Scotch pilchards was in
question, while at the very same moment they were earnest for excluding
their best allies and all the world besides from their East India
monopoly. But Isaac Le Maire and Jacques Le Roy had not lain so long
disguised in Zamet's house in Paris for nothing, nor had Aerssens so
completely "broke the neck of the French East India Company" as he
supposed. A certain Dutch freebooter, however, Simon Danzer by name, a
native of Dordrecht, who had been alternately in the service of Spain,
France, and the States, but a general marauder upon all powers, was
exercising at that moment perhaps more influence on the East India trade
than any potentate or commonwealth.

He kept the seas just then with four swift-sailing and well-armed
vessels, that potent skimmer of the ocean, and levied tribute upon
Protestant and Catholic, Turk or Christian, with great impartiality. The
King of Spain had sent him letters of amnesty and safe-conduct, with
large pecuniary offers, if he would enter his service. The King of France
had outbid his royal brother and enemy, and implored him to sweep the
seas under the white flag.

The States' ambassador begged his masters to reflect whether this
"puissant and experienced corsair" should be permitted to serve Spaniard
or Frenchman, and whether they could devise no expedient for turning him
into another track. "He is now with his fine ships at Marseilles," said
Aerssens. "He is sought for in all quarters by the Spaniard and by the
directors of the new French East India Company, private persons who equip
vessels of war. If he is not satisfied with this king's offers, he is
likely to close with the King of Spain, who offers him 1000 crowns a
month. Avarice tickles him, but he is neither Spaniard nor Papist, and I
fear will be induced to serve with his ships the East India Company, and
so will return to his piracy, the evil of which will always fall on our
heads. If My Lords the States will send me letters of abolition for him,
in imitation of the French king, on condition of his returning to his
home in Zealand and quitting the sea altogether, something might be done.
Otherwise he will be off to Marseilles again, and do more harm to us than
ever. Isaac Le Maire is doing as much evil as he can, and one holds daily
council with him here."

Thus the slippery Simon skimmed the seas from Marseilles to the Moluccas,
from Java to Mexico, never to be held firmly by Philip, or Henry, or
Barneveld. A dissolute but very daring ship's captain, born in Zealand,
and formerly in the service of the States, out of which he had been
expelled for many evil deeds, Simon Danzer had now become a professional
pirate, having his head-quarters chiefly at Algiers. His English
colleague Warde stationed himself mainly at Tunis, and both acted
together in connivance with the pachas of the Turkish government. They
with their considerable fleet, one vessel of which mounted sixty guns,
were the terror of the Mediterranean, extorted tribute from the commerce
of all nations indifferently, and sold licenses to the greatest
governments of Europe. After growing rich with his accumulated booty,
Simon was inclined to become respectable, a recourse which was always
open to him--France, England, Spain, the United Provinces, vieing with
each other to secure him by high rank and pay as an honoured member of
their national marine. He appears however to have failed in his plan of
retiring upon his laurels, having been stabbed in Paris by a man whom he
had formerly robbed and ruined.

Villeroy, having delivered the letters with his own hands to the
ambassadors, was asked by them when and where it would be convenient for
the King to arrange the convention of close alliance. The Secretary of
State--in his secret heart anything but kindly disposed for this loving
union with a republic he detested and with heretics whom he would have
burned--answered briefly that his Majesty was ready at any time, and that
it might take place then if they were provided with the necessary powers.
He said in parting that the States should "have an eye to everything, for
occasions like the present were irrecoverable." He then departed, saying
that the King would receive them in final audience on the following day.

Next morning accordingly Marshal de Boisdaulphin and de Bonoeil came with
royal coaches to the Hotel Gondy and escorted the ambassadors to the
Louvre. On the way they met de Bethune, who had returned solo from the
Hague bringing despatches for the King and for themselves. While in the
antechamber, they had opportunity to read their letters from the
States-General, his Majesty sending word that he was expecting them with
impatience, but preferred that they should read the despatches before the
audience.

They found the King somewhat out of humour. He expressed himself as
tolerably well satisfied with the general tenour of the despatches
brought by de Bethune, but complained loudly of the request now made by
the States, that the maintenance and other expenses of 4000 French in the
States' service should be paid in the coming campaign out of the royal
exchequer. He declared that this proposition was "a small manifestation
of ingratitude," that my Lords the States were "little misers," and that
such proceedings were "little avaricious tricks" such as he had not
expected of them.

So far as England was concerned, he said there was a great difference.
The English took away what he was giving. He did cheerfully a great deal
for his friends, he said, and was always ready doubly to repay what they
did for him. If, however, the States persisted in this course, he should
call his troops home again.

The King, as he went on, became more and more excited, and showed decided
dissatisfaction in his language and manner. It was not to be wondered at,
for we have seen how persistently he had been urging that the Advocate
should come in person with "the bridle on his neck," and now he had sent
his son-in-law and two colleagues tightly tied up by stringent
instructions. And over an above all this, while he was contemplating a
general war with intention to draw upon the States for unlimited
supplies, behold, they were haggling for the support of a couple of
regiments which were virtually their own troops.

There were reasons, however, for this cautiousness besides those
unfounded, although not entirely chimerical, suspicions as to the King's
good faith, to which we have alluded. It should not be forgotten that,
although Henry had conversed secretly with the States' ambassador at full
length on his far-reaching plans, with instructions that he should
confidentially inform the Advocate and demand his co-operation, not a
word of it had been officially propounded to the States-General, nor to
the special embassy with whom he was now negotiating. No treaty of
alliance offensive or defensive existed between the Kingdom and the
Republic or between the Republic and any power whatever. It would have
been culpable carelessness therefore at this moment for the prime
minister of the States to have committed his government in writing to a
full participation in a general assault upon the House of Austria; the
first step in which would have been a breach of the treaty just concluded
and instant hostilities with the Archdukes Albert and Isabella.

That these things were in the immediate future was as plain as that night
would follow day, but the hour had not yet struck for the States to throw
down the gauntlet.

Hardly two months before, the King, in his treaty with the princes at
Hall, had excluded both the King of Great Britain and the States-General
from participation in those arrangements, and it was grave matter for
consideration, therefore, for the States whether they should allow such
succour as they might choose to grant the princes to be included in the
French contingent. The opportunity for treating as a sovereign power with
the princes and making friends with them was tempting, but it did not
seem reasonable to the States that France should make use of them in this
war without a treaty, and should derive great advantage from the
alliance, but leave the expense to them.

Henry, on the other hand, forgetting, when it was convenient to him, all
about the Princess of Conde, his hatred of Spain, and his resolution to
crush the House of Austria, chose to consider the war as made simply for
the love of the States-General and to secure them for ever from danger.

The ambassadors replied to the King's invectives with great respect, and
endeavoured to appease his anger. They had sent a special despatch to
their government, they said, in regard to all those matters, setting
forth all the difficulties that had been raised, but had not wished to
trouble his Majesty with premature discussions of them. They did not
doubt, however, that their High Mightinesses would so conduct this great
affair as to leave the King no ground of complaint.

Henry then began to talk of the intelligence brought by de Bethune from
the Hague, especially in regard to the sending of States' troops to
Dusseldorf and the supply of food for the French army. He did not
believe, he said, that the Archdukes would refuse him the passage with
his forces through their territory, inasmuch as the States' army would be
on the way to meet him. In case of any resistance, however, he declared
his resolution to strike his blow and to cause people to talk of him. He
had sent his quartermaster-general to examine the passes, who had
reported that it would be impossible to prevent his Majesty's advance. He
was also distinctly informed that Marquis Spinola, keeping his places
garrisoned, could not bring more than 8000 men into the field. The Duke
of Bouillon, however, was sending advices that his communications were
liable to be cut off, and that for this purpose Spinola could set on foot
about 16,000 infantry and 4000 horse.

If the passage should be allowed by the Archdukes, the King stated his
intention of establishing magazines for his troops along the whole line
of march through the Spanish Netherlands and neighbouring districts, and
to establish and fortify himself everywhere in order to protect his
supplies and cover his possible retreat. He was still in doubt, he said,
whether to demand the passage at once or to wait until he had began to
move his army. He was rather inclined to make the request instantly in
order to gain time, being persuaded that he should receive no answer
either of consent or refusal.

Leaving all these details, the King then frankly observed that the affair
of Cleve had a much wider outlook than people thought. Therefore the
States must consider well what was to be done to secure the whole work as
soon as the Cleve business had been successfully accomplished. Upon this
subject it was indispensable that he should consult especially with his
Excellency (Prince Maurice) and some members of the General Assembly,
whom he wished that My Lords the States-General should depute to the
army.

"For how much good will it do," said the King, "if we drive off Archduke
Leopold without establishing the princes in security for the future?
Nothing is easier than to put the princes in possession. Every one will
yield or run away before our forces, but two months after we have
withdrawn the enemy will return and drive the princes out again. I cannot
always be ready to spring out of my kingdom, nor to assemble such great
armies. I am getting old, and my army moreover costs me 400,000 crowns a
month, which is enough to exhaust all the treasures of France, Spain,
Venice, and the States-General together."

He added that, if the present occasion were neglected, the States would
afterwards bitterly lament and never recover it. The Pope was very much
excited, and was sending out his ambassadors everywhere. Only the
previous Saturday the new nuncius destined for France had left Rome. If
My Lords the States would send deputies to the camp with full powers, he
stood there firm and unchangeable, but if they remained cool in the
business, he warned them that they would enrage him.

The States must seize the occasion, he repeated. It was bald behind, and
must be grasped by the forelock. It was not enough to have begun well.
One must end well. "Finis coronat opus." It was very easy to speak of a
league, but a league was not to be made in order to sit with arms tied,
but to do good work. The States ought not to suffer that the Germans
should prove themselves more energetic, more courageous, than themselves.

And again the King vehemently urged the necessity of his Excellency and
some deputies of the States coming to him "with absolute power" to treat.
He could not doubt in that event of something solid being accomplished.

"There are three things," he continued, "which cause me to speak freely.
I am talking with my friends whom I hold dear--yes, dearer, perhaps, than
they hold themselves. I am a great king, and say what I choose to say. I
am old, and know by experience the ways of this world's affairs. I tell
you, then, that it is most important that you should come to me resolved
and firm on all points."

He then requested the ambassadors to make full report of all that he had
said to their masters, to make the journey as rapidly as possible, in
order to encourage the States to the great enterprise and to meet his
wishes. He required from them, he said, not only activity of the body,
but labour of the intellect.

He was silent for a few moments, and then spoke again. "I shall not
always be here," he said, "nor will you always have Prince Maurice, and a
few others whose knowledge of your commonwealth is perfect. My Lords the
States must be up and doing while they still possess them. Nest Tuesday I
shall cause the Queen to be crowned at Saint-Denis; the following
Thursday she will make her entry into Paris. Next day, Friday, I shall
take my departure. At the end of this month I shall cross the Meuse at
Mezieres or in that neighbourhood."

He added that he should write immediately to Holland, to urge upon his
Excellency and the States to be ready to make the junction of their army
with his forces without delay. He charged the ambassadors to assure their
High Mightinesses that he was and should remain their truest friend,
their dearest neighbour. He then said a few gracious and cordial words to
each of them, warmly embraced each, and bade them all farewell.

The next day was passed by the ambassadors in paying and receiving
farewell visits, and on Saturday, the 8th, they departed from Paris,
being escorted out of the gate by the Marshal de Boisdaulphin, with a
cavalcade of noblemen. They slept that night at Saint Denis, and then
returned to Holland by the way of Calais and Rotterdam, reaching the
Hague on the 16th of May.

I make no apology for the minute details thus given of the proceedings of
this embassy, and especially of the conversations of Henry.

The very words of those conversations were taken down on the spot by the
commissioners who heard them, and were carefully embodied in their report
made to the States-General on their return, from which I have transcribed
them.

It was a memorable occasion. The great king--for great he was, despite
his numerous vices and follies--stood there upon the threshold of a vast
undertaking, at which the world, still half incredulous, stood gazing,
half sick with anxiety. He relied on his own genius and valour chiefly,
and after these on the brain of Barneveld and the sword of Maurice. Nor
was his confidence misplaced.

But let the reader observe the date of the day when those striking
utterances were made, and which have never before been made public. It
was Thursday, the 6th May. "I shall not always be here," said the King,
. . . "I cannot be ready at any moment to spring out of my kingdom."
. . . "Friday of next week I take my departure."

How much of heroic pathos in Henry's attitude at this supreme moment! How
mournfully ring those closing words of his address to the ambassadors!

The die was cast. A letter drawn up by the Duc de Sully was sent to
Archduke Albert by the King.

"My brother," he said; "Not being able to refuse my best allies and
confederates the help which they have asked of me against those who wish
to trouble them in the succession to the duchies and counties of Cleve,
Julich, Mark, Berg, Ravensberg, and Ravenstein, I am advancing towards
them with my army. As my road leads me through your country, I desire to
notify you thereof, and to know whether or not I am to enter as a friend
or enemy."

Such was the draft as delivered to the Secretary of State; "and as such
it was sent," said Sully, "unless Villeroy changed it, as he had a great
desire to do."

Henry was mistaken in supposing that the Archduke would leave the letter
without an answer. A reply was sent in due time, and the permission
demanded was not refused. For although France was now full of military
movement, and the regiments everywhere were hurrying hourly to the places
of rendezvous, though the great storm at last was ready to burst, the
Archdukes made no preparations for resistance, and lapped themselves in
fatal security that nothing was intended but an empty demonstration.

Six thousand Swiss newly levied, with 20,000 French infantry and 6000
horse, were waiting for Henry to place himself at their head at Mezieres.
Twelve thousand foot and 2000 cavalry, including the French and English
contingents--a splendid army, led by Prince Maurice--were ready to march
from Holland to Dusseldorf. The army of the princes under Prince
Christian of Anhalt numbered 10,000 men. The last scruples of the usually
unscrupulous Charles Emmanuel had been overcome, and the Duke was quite
ready to act, 25,000 strong, with Marshal de Lesdiguieres, in the
Milanese; while Marshal de la Force was already at the head of his forces
in the Pyrenees, amounting to 12,000 foot and 2000 horse.

Sully had already despatched his splendid trains of artillery to the
frontier. "Never was seen in France, and perhaps never will be seen there
again, artillery more complete and better furnished," said the Duke,
thinking probably that artillery had reached the climax of perfect
destructiveness in the first decade of the seventeenth century.

His son, the Marquis de Rosny, had received the post of grand master of
artillery, and placed himself at its head. His father was to follow as
its chief, carrying with him as superintendent of finance a cash-box of
eight millions.

The King had appointed his wife, Mary de' Medici, regent, with an eminent
council.

The new nuncius had been requested to present himself with his letters of
credence in the camp. Henry was unwilling that he should enter Paris,
being convinced that he came to do his best, by declamation, persuasion,
and intrigue, to paralyse the enterprise. Sully's promises to Ubaldini,
the former nuncius, that his Holiness should be made king, however
flattering to Paul V., had not prevented his representatives from
vigorously denouncing Henry's monstrous scheme to foment heresy and
encourage rebellion.

The King's chagrin at the cautious limitations imposed upon the States'
special embassy was, so he hoped, to be removed by full conferences in
the camp. Certainly he had shown in the most striking manner the respect
he felt for the States, and the confidence he reposed in them.

"In the reception of your embassy," wrote Aerssens to the Advocate,
"certainly the King has so loosened the strap of his affection that he
has reserved nothing by which he could put the greatest king in the world
above your level."

He warned the States, however, that Henry had not found as much in their
propositions as the common interest had caused him to promise himself.
"Nevertheless he informs me in confidence," said Aerssens, "that he will
engage himself in nothing without you; nay, more, he has expressly told
me that he could hardly accomplish his task without your assistance, and
it was for our sakes alone that he has put himself into this position and
incurred this great expense."

Some days later he informed Barneveld that he would leave to van der Myle
and his colleagues the task of describing the great dissatisfaction of
the King at the letters brought by de Bethune. He told him in confidence
that the States must equip the French regiments and put them in marching
order if they wished to preserve Henry's friendship. He added that since
the departure of the special embassy the King had been vehemently and
seriously urging that Prince Maurice, Count Lewis William, Barneveld, and
three or four of the most qualified deputies of the States-General,
entirely authorized to treat for the common safety, should meet with him
in the territory of Julich on a fixed day.

The crisis was reached. The King stood fully armed, thoroughly prepared,
with trustworthy allies at his side, disposing of overwhelming forces
ready to sweep down with irresistible strength upon the House of Austria,
which, as he said and the States said, aspired to give the law to the
whole world. Nothing was left to do save, as the Ambassador said, to
"uncouple the dogs of war and let them run."

What preparations had Spain and the Empire, the Pope and the League, set
on foot to beat back even for a moment the overwhelming onset? None
whatever. Spinola in the Netherlands, Fuentes in Milan, Bucquoy and
Lobkowitz and Lichtenstein in Prague, had hardly the forces of a moderate
peace establishment at their disposal, and all the powers save France and
the States were on the verge of bankruptcy.

Even James of Great Britain--shuddering at the vast thundercloud which
had stretched itself over Christendom growing blacker and blacker,
precisely at this moment, in which he had proved to his own satisfaction
that the peace just made would perpetually endure--even James did not
dare to traverse the designs of the king whom he feared, and the republic
which he hated, in favour of his dearly loved Spain. Sweden, Denmark, the
Hanse Towns, were in harmony with France, Holland, Savoy, and the whole
Protestant force of Germany--a majority both in population and resources
of the whole empire. What army, what combination, what device, what
talisman, could save the House of Austria, the cause of Papacy, from the
impending ruin?

A sudden, rapid, conclusive victory for the allies seemed as predestined
a result as anything could be in the future of human affairs.

On the 14th or 15th day of May, as he had just been informing the States'
ambassadors, Henry meant to place himself at the head of his army. That
was the moment fixed by himself for "taking his departure."

And now the ides of May had come--but not gone.

In the midst of all the military preparations with which Paris had been
resounding, the arrangements for the Queen's coronation had been
simultaneously going forward. Partly to give check in advance to the
intrigues which would probably at a later date be made by Conde,
supported by the power of Spain, to invalidate the legitimacy of the
Dauphin, but more especially perhaps to further and to conceal what the
faithful Sully called the "damnable artifices" of the Queen's intimate
councillors--sinister designs too dark to be even whispered at that
epoch, and of which history, during the lapse of more than two centuries
and a half, has scarcely dared to speak above its breath--it was deemed
all important that the coronation should take place.

A certain astrologer, Thomassin by name, was said to have bidden the King
to beware the middle of the next month of May. Henry had tweaked the
soothsayer by the beard and made him dance twice or thrice about the
room. To the Duc de Vendome expressing great anxiety in regard to
Thomassin, Henry replied, "The astrologer is an old fool, and you are a
young fool." A certain prophetess called Pasithea had informed the Queen
that the King could not survive his fifty-seventh year. She was much in
the confidence of Mary de' Medici, who had insisted this year on her
returning to Paris. Henry, who was ever chafing and struggling to escape
the invisible and dangerous net which he felt closing about him, and who
connected the sorceress with all whom he most loathed among the intimate
associates of the Queen, swore a mighty oath that she should not show her
face again at court. "My heart presages that some signal disaster will
befall me on this coronation. Concini and his wife are urging the Queen
obstinately to send for this fanatic. If she should come, there is no
doubt that my wife and I shall squabble well about her. If I discover
more about these private plots of hers with Spain, I shall be in a mighty
passion." And the King then assured the faithful minister of his
conviction that all the jealousy affected by the Queen in regard to the
Princess of Conde was but a veil to cover dark designs. It was necessary
in the opinion of those who governed her, the vile Concini and his wife,
that there should be some apparent and flagrant cause of quarrel. The
public were to receive payment in these pretexts for want of better coin.
Henry complained that even Sully and all the world besides attributed to
jealousy that which was really the effect of a most refined malice.

And the minister sometimes pauses in the midst of these revelations made
in his old age, and with self-imposed and shuddering silence intimates
that there are things he could tell which are too odious and dreadful to
be breathed.

Henry had an invincible repugnance to that coronation on which the Queen
had set her heart. Nothing could be more pathetic than the isolated
position in which he found himself, standing thus as he did on the
threshold of a mighty undertaking in which he was the central figure, an
object for the world to gaze upon with palpitating interest. At his
hearth in the Louvre were no household gods. Danger lurked behind every
tapestry in that magnificent old palace. A nameless dread dogged his
footsteps through those resounding corridors.

And by an exquisite refinement in torture the possible father of several
of his children not only dictated to the Queen perpetual outbreaks of
frantic jealousy against her husband, but moved her to refuse with
suspicion any food and drink offered her by his hands. The Concini's
would even with unparalleled and ingenious effrontery induce her to make
use of the kitchen arrangements in their apartments for the preparation
of her daily meals?

Driven from house and home, Henry almost lived at the Arsenal. There he
would walk for hours in the long alleys of the garden, discussing with
the great financier and soldier his vast, dreamy, impracticable plans.
Strange combination of the hero, the warrior, the voluptuary, the sage,
and the schoolboy--it would be difficult to find in the whole range of
history a more human, a more attractive, a more provoking, a less
venerable character.

Haunted by omens, dire presentiments, dark suspicions with and without
cause, he was especially averse from the coronation to which in a moment
of weakness he had given his consent.

Sitting in Sully's cabinet, in a low chair which the Duke had expressly
provided for his use, tapping and drumming on his spectacle case, or
starting up and smiting himself on the thigh, he would pour out his soul
hours long to his one confidential minister. "Ah, my friend, how this
sacrament displeases me," he said; "I know not why it is, but my heart
tells me that some misfortune is to befall me. By God I shall die in this
city, I shall never go out of it; I see very well that they are finding
their last resource in my death. Ah, accursed coronation! thou wilt be
the cause of my death."

So many times did he give utterance to these sinister forebodings that
Sully implored him at last for leave to countermand the whole ceremony
notwithstanding the great preparations which had been made for the
splendid festival. "Yes, yes," replied the King, "break up this
coronation at once. Let me hear no more of it. Then I shall have my mind
cured of all these impressions. I shall leave the town and fear nothing."

He then informed his friend that he had received intimations that he
should lose his life at the first magnificent festival he should give,
and that he should die in a carriage. Sully admitted that he had often,
when in a carriage with him, been amazed at his starting and crying out
at the slightest shock, having so often seen him intrepid among guns and
cannon, pikes and naked swords.

The Duke went to the Queen three days in succession, and with passionate
solicitations and arguments and almost upon his knees implored her to
yield to the King's earnest desire, and renounce for the time at least
the coronation. In vain. Mary de' Medici was obdurate as marble to his
prayers.

The coronation was fixed for Thursday, the 13th May, two days later than
the time originally appointed when the King conversed with the States'
ambassadors. On the following Sunday was to be the splendid and solemn
entrance of the crowned Queen. On the Monday, Henry, postponing likewise
for two days his original plan of departure, would leave for the army.

Meantime there were petty annoyances connected with the details of the
coronation. Henry had set his heart on having his legitimatized children,
the offspring of the fair Gabrielle, take their part in the ceremony on
an equal footing with the princes of the blood. They were not entitled to
wear the lilies of France upon their garments, and the King was
solicitous that "the Count"--as Soissons, brother of Prince Conti and
uncle of Conde, was always called--should dispense with those ensigns for
his wife upon this solemn occasion, and that the other princesses of the
blood should do the same. Thus there would be no appearance of
inferiority on the part of the Duchess of Vendome.

The Count protested that he would have his eyes torn out of his head
rather than submit to an arrangement which would do him so much shame. He
went to the Queen and urged upon her that to do this would likewise be an
injury to her children, the Dukes of Orleans and of Anjou. He refused
flatly to appear or allow his wife to appear except in the costume
befitting their station. The King on his part was determined not to
abandon his purpose. He tried to gain over the Count by the most splendid
proposals, offering him the command of the advance-guard of the army, or
the lieutenancy-general of France in the absence of the King, 30,000
crowns for his equipment and an increase of his pension if he would cause
his wife to give up the fleurs-de-lys on this occasion. The alternative
was to be that, if she insisted upon wearing them, his Majesty would
never look upon him again with favourable eyes.

The Count never hesitated, but left Paris, refusing to appear at the
ceremony. The King was in a towering passion, for to lose the presence of
this great prince of the blood at a solemnity expressly intended as a
demonstration against the designs hatching by the first of all the
princes of the blood under patronage of Spain was a severe blow to his
pride and a check to his policy.'

Yet it was inconceivable that he could at such a moment commit so
superfluous and unmeaning a blunder. He had forced Conde into exile,
intrigue with the enemy, and rebellion, by open and audacious efforts to
destroy his domestic peace, and now he was willing to alienate one of his
most powerful subjects in order to place his bastards on a level with
royalty. While it is sufficiently amusing to contemplate this proposed
barter of a chief command in a great army or the lieutenancy-general of a
mighty kingdom at the outbreak of a general European war against a bit of
embroidery on the court dress of a lady, yet it is impossible not to
recognize something ideal and chivalrous from his own point of view in
the refusal of Soissons to renounce those emblems of pure and high
descent, those haughty lilies of St. Louis, against any bribes of place
and pelf however dazzling.

The coronation took place on Thursday, 13th May, with the pomp and
glitter becoming great court festivals; the more pompous and glittering
the more the monarch's heart was wrapped in gloom. The representatives of
the great powers were conspicuous in the procession; Aerssens, the Dutch
ambassador, holding a foremost place. The ambassadors of Spain and Venice
as usual squabbled about precedence and many other things, and actually
came to fisticuffs, the fight lasting a long time and ending somewhat to
the advantage of the Venetian. But the sacrament was over, and Mary de'
Medici was crowned Queen of France and Regent of the Kingdom during the
absence of the sovereign with his army.

Meantime there had been mysterious warnings darker and more distinct than
the babble of the soothsayer Thomassin or the ravings of the lunatic
Pasithea. Count Schomberg, dining at the Arsenal with Sully, had been
called out to converse with Mademoiselle de Gournay, who implored that a
certain Madame d'Escomans might be admitted to audience of the King. That
person, once in direct relations with the Marchioness of Verneuil, the
one of Henry's mistresses who most hated him, affirmed that a man from
the Duke of Epernon's country was in Paris, agent of a conspiracy seeking
the King's life.

The woman not enjoying a very reputable character found it impossible to
obtain a hearing, although almost frantic with her desire to save her
sovereign's life. The Queen observed that it was a wicked woman, who was
accusing all the world, and perhaps would accuse her too.

The fatal Friday came. Henry drove out, in his carriage to see the
preparations making for the triumphal entrance of the Queen into Paris on
the following Sunday. What need to repeat the tragic, familiar tale? The
coach was stopped by apparent accident in the narrow street de la
Feronniere, and Francis Ravaillac, standing on the wheel, drove his knife
through the monarch's heart. The Duke of Epernon, sitting at his side,
threw his cloak over the body and ordered the carriage back to the
Louvre.

"They have killed him, 'e ammazato,'" cried Concini (so says tradition),
thrusting his head into the Queen's bedchamber.

   [Michelet, 197. It is not probable that the documents concerning
   the trial, having been so carefully suppressed from the beginning,
   especially the confession dictated to Voisin--who wrote it kneeling
   on the ground, and was perhaps so appalled at its purport that he
   was afraid to write it legibly--will ever see the light. I add in
   the Appendix some contemporary letters of persons, as likely as any
   one to know what could be known, which show how dreadful were the
   suspicions which men entertained, and which they hardly ventured to
   whisper to each other].

That blow had accomplished more than a great army could have done, and
Spain now reigned in Paris. The House of Austria, without making any
military preparations, had conquered, and the great war of religion and
politics was postponed for half a dozen years.

This history has no immediate concern with solving the mysteries of that
stupendous crime. The woman who had sought to save the King's life now
denounced Epernon as the chief murderer, and was arrested, examined,
accused of lunacy, proved to be perfectly sane, and, persisting in her
statements with perfect coherency, was imprisoned for life for her pains;
the Duke furiously demanding her instant execution.

The documents connected with the process were carefully suppressed. The
assassin, tortured and torn by four horses, was supposed to have revealed
nothing and to have denied the existence of accomplices.

The great accused were too omnipotent to be dealt with by humble accusers
or by convinced but powerless tribunals. The trial was all mystery,
hugger-mugger, horror. Yet the murderer is known to have dictated to the
Greflier Voisin, just before expiring on the Greve, a declaration which
that functionary took down in a handwriting perhaps purposely illegible.

Two centuries and a half have passed away, yet the illegible original
record is said to exist, to have been plainly read, and to contain the
names of the Queen and the Duke of Epernon.

Twenty-six years before, the pistol of Balthasar Gerard had destroyed the
foremost man in Europe and the chief of a commonwealth just struggling
into existence. Yet Spain and Rome, the instigators and perpetrators of
the crime, had not reaped the victory which they had the right to expect.
The young republic, guided by Barneveld and loyal to the son of the
murdered stadholder, was equal to the burthen suddenly descending upon
its shoulders. Instead of despair there had been constancy. Instead of
distracted counsels there had been heroic union of heart and hand. Rather
than bend to Rome and grovel to Philip, it had taken its sovereignty in
its hands, offered it successively, without a thought of
self-aggrandizement on the part of its children, to the crowns of France
and Great Britain, and, having been repulsed by both, had learned after
fiery trials and incredible exertions to assert its own high and foremost
place among the independent powers of the world.

And now the knife of another priest-led fanatic, the wretched but
unflinching instrument of a great conspiracy, had at a blow decapitated
France. No political revolution could be much more thorough than that
which had been accomplished in a moment of time by Francis Ravaillac.

On the 14th of May, France, while in spiritual matters obedient to the
Pope, stood at the head of the forces of Protestantism throughout Europe,
banded together to effect the downfall of the proud house of Austria,
whose fortunes and fate were synonymous with Catholicism. The Baltic
powers, the majority of the Teutonic races, the Kingdom of Britain, the
great Republic of the Netherlands, the northernmost and most warlike
governments of Italy, all stood at the disposition of the warrior-king.
Venice, who had hitherto, in the words of a veteran diplomatist, "shunned
to look a league or a confederation in the face, if there was any
Protestant element in it, as if it had been the head of Medusa," had
formally forbidden the passage of troops northwards to the relief of the
assailed power. Savoy, after direful hesitations, had committed herself
body and soul to the great enterprise. Even the Pope, who feared the
overshadowing personality of Henry, and was beginning to believe his
house's private interests more likely to flourish under the protection of
the French than the Spanish king, was wavering in his fidelity to Spain
and tempted by French promises: If he should prove himself incapable of
effecting a pause in the great crusade, it was doubtful on which side he
would ultimately range himself; for it was at least certain that the new
Catholic League, under the chieftainship of Maximilian of Bavaria, was
resolved not to entangle its fortunes inextricably with those of the
Austrian house.

The great enterprise, first unfolding itself with the episode of Cleve
and Berg and whimsically surrounding itself with the fantastic idyl of
the Princess of Conde, had attained vast and misty proportions in the
brain of its originator. Few political visions are better known in
history than the "grand design" of Henry for rearranging the map of the
world at the moment when, in the middle of May, he was about to draw his
sword. Spain reduced to the Mediterranean and the Pyrenees, but presented
with both the Indies, with all America and the whole Orient in fee; the
Empire taken from Austria and given to Bavaria; a constellation of States
in Italy, with the Pope for president-king; throughout the rest of
Christendom a certain number of republics, of kingdoms, of religions--a
great confederation of the world, in short--with the most Christian king
for its dictator and protector, and a great Amphictyonic council to
regulate all disputes by solemn arbitration, and to make war in the
future impossible, such in little was his great design.

Nothing could be more humane, more majestic, more elaborate, more utterly
preposterous. And all this gigantic fabric had passed away in an
instant--at one stroke of a broken table knife sharpened on a carriage
wheel.

Most pitiful was the condition of France on the day after, and for years
after, the murder of the King. Not only was the kingdom for the time
being effaced from the roll of nations, so far as external relations were
concerned, but it almost ceased to be a kingdom. The ancient monarchy of
Hugh Capet, of Saint-Louis, of Henry of France and Navarre, was
transformed into a turbulent, self-seeking, quarrelsome, pillaging,
pilfering democracy of grandees. The Queen-Regent was tossed hither and
thither at the sport of the winds and waves which shifted every hour in
that tempestuous court.

No man pretended to think of the State. Every man thought only of
himself. The royal exchequer was plundered with a celerity and cynical
recklessness such as have been rarely seen in any age or country. The
millions so carefully hoarded by Sully, and exhibited so dramatically by
that great minister to the enraptured eyes of his sovereign; that
treasure in the Bastille on which Henry relied for payment of the armies
with which he was to transform the world, all disappeared in a few weeks
to feed the voracious maw of courtiers, paramours, and partisans!

The Queen showered gold like water upon her beloved Concini that he might
purchase his Marquisate of Ancre, and the charge of first gentleman of
the court from Bouillon; that he might fit himself for the government of
Picardy; that he might elevate his marquisate into a dukedom. Conde,
having no further reason to remain in exile, received as a gift from the
trembling Mary de' Medici the magnificent Hotel Gondy, where the Dutch
ambassadors had so recently been lodged, for which she paid 65,000
crowns, together with 25,000 crowns to furnish it, 50,000 crowns to pay
his debts, 50,000 more as yearly pension.

He claimed double, and was soon at sword's point with the Queen in spite
of her lavish bounty.

Epernon, the true murderer of Henry, trampled on courts of justice and
councils of ministers, frightened the court by threatening to convert his
possession of Metz into an independent sovereignty, as Balagny had
formerly seized upon Cambray, smothered for ever the process of
Ravaillac, caused those to be put to death or immured for life in
dungeons who dared to testify to his complicity in the great crime, and
strode triumphantly over friends and enemies throughout France, although
so crippled by the gout that he could scarcely walk up stairs.

There was an end to the triumvirate. Sully's influence was gone for ever.
The other two dropped the mask. The Chancellor and Villeroy revealed
themselves to be what they secretly had always been--humble servants and
stipendiaries of Spain. The formal meetings of the council were of little
importance, and were solemn, tearful, and stately; draped in woe for the
great national loss. In the private cabinet meetings in the entresol of
the Louvre, where the Nuncius and the Spanish ambassador held counsel
with Epernon and Villeroy and Jeannin and Sillery, the tone was merry and
loud; the double Spanish marriage and confusion to the Dutch being the
chief topics of consultation.

But the anarchy grew day by day into almost hopeless chaos. There was no
satisfying the princes of the blood nor the other grandees. Conde, whose
reconciliation with the Princess followed not long after the death of
Henry and his own return to France, was insatiable in his demands for
money, power, and citadels of security. Soissons, who might formerly have
received the lieutenancy-general of the kingdom by sacrificing the lilies
on his wife's gown, now disputed for that office with his elder brother
Conti, the Prince claiming it by right of seniority, the Count denouncing
Conti as deaf, dumb, and imbecile, till they drew poniards on each other
in the very presence of the Queen; while Conde on one occasion, having
been refused the citadels which he claimed, Blaye and Chateau Trompette,
threw his cloak over his nose and put on his hat while the Queen was
speaking, and left the council in a fury, declaring that Villeroy and the
chancellor were traitors, and that he would have them both soundly
cudgelled. Guise, Lorraine, Epernon, Bouillon, and other great lords
always appeared in the streets of Paris at the head of three, four, or
five hundred mounted and armed retainers; while the Queen in her
distraction gave orders to arm the Paris mob to the number of fifty
thousand, and to throw chains across the streets to protect herself and
her son against the turbulent nobles.

Sully, hardly knowing to what saint to burn his candle, being forced to
resign his great posts, was found for a time in strange political
combination with the most ancient foes of his party and himself. The
kaleidoscope whirling with exasperating quickness showed ancient Leaguers
and Lorrainers banded with and protecting Huguenots against the Crown,
while princes of the blood, hereditary patrons and chiefs of the
Huguenots, became partisans and stipendiaries of Spain.

It is easy to see that circumstances like these rendered the position of
the Dutch commonwealth delicate and perilous.

Sully informed Aerssens and van der Myle, who had been sent back to Paris
on special mission very soon after the death of the King, that it took a
hundred hours now to accomplish a single affair, whereas under Henry a
hundred affairs were transacted in a single hour. But Sully's sun had
set, and he had few business conferences now with the ambassadors.

Villeroy and the Chancellor had fed fat their ancient grudge to the once
omnipotent minister, and had sworn his political ruin. The old secretary
of state had held now complete control of the foreign alliances and
combinations of France, and the Dutch ambassadors could be under no
delusion as to the completeness of the revolution.

"You will find a passion among the advisers of the Queen," said Villeroy
to Aerssens and van der Myle, "to move in diametrical opposition to the
plans of the late king." And well might the ancient Leaguer and present
pensionary of Spain reveal this foremost fact in a policy of which he was
in secret the soul. He wept profusely when he first received Francis
Aerssens, but after these "useless tears," as the Envoy called them, he
soon made it manifest that there was no more to be expected of France, in
the great project which its government had so elaborately set on foot.

Villeroy was now sixty-six years of age, and had been secretary of state
during forty-two years and under four kings. A man of delicate health,
frail body, methodical habits, capacity for routine, experience in
political intrigue, he was not personally as greedy of money as many of
his contemporaries, and was not without generosity; but he loved power,
the Pope, and the House of Austria. He was singularly reserved in public,
practised successfully the talent of silence, and had at last arrived at
the position he most coveted, the virtual presidency of the council, and
saw the men he most hated beneath his feet.

At the first interview of Aerssens with the Queen-Regent she was drowned
in tears, and could scarcely articulate an intelligible sentence. So far
as could be understood she expressed her intention of carrying out the
King's plans, of maintaining the old alliances, of protecting both
religions. Nothing, however, could be more preposterous than such
phrases. Villeroy, who now entirely directed the foreign affairs of the
kingdom, assured the Ambassador that France was much more likely to apply
to the States for assistance than render them aid in any enterprise
whatever. "There is no doubt," said Aerssens, "that the Queen is entirely
in the hands of Spain and the priests." Villeroy, whom Henry was wont to
call the pedagogue of the council, went about sighing dismally, wishing
himself dead, and perpetually ejaculating, "Ho! poor France, how much
hast thou still to suffer!" In public he spoke of nothing but of union,
and of the necessity of carrying out the designs of the King, instructing
the docile Queen to hold the same language. In private he was quite
determined to crush those designs for ever, and calmly advised the Dutch
government to make an amicable agreement with the Emperor in regard to
the Cleve affair as soon as possible; a treaty which would have been
shameful for France and the possessory princes, and dangerous, if not
disastrous, for the States-General. "Nothing but feverish and sick
counsels," he said, "could be expected from France, which had now lost
its vigour and could do nothing but groan."

Not only did the French council distinctly repudiate the idea of doing
anything more for the princes than had been stipulated by the treaty of
Hall--that is to say, a contingent of 8000 foot and 2000 horse--but many
of them vehemently maintained that the treaty, being a personal one of
the late king, was dead with him? The duty of France was now in their
opinion to withdraw from these mad schemes as soon as possible, to make
peace with the House of Austria without delay, and to cement the
friendship by the double marriages.

Bouillon, who at that moment hated Sully as much as the most vehement
Catholic could do, assured the Dutch envoy that the government was, under
specious appearances, attempting to deceive the States; a proposition
which it needed not the evidence of that most intriguing duke to make
manifest to so astute a politician; particularly as there was none more
bent on playing the most deceptive game than Bouillon. There would be no
troops to send, he said, and even if there were, there would be no
possibility of agreeing on a chief. The question of religion would at
once arise. As for himself, the Duke protested that he would not accept
the command if offered him. He would not agree to serve under the Prince
of Anhalt, nor would he for any consideration in the world leave the
court at that moment. At the same time Aerssens was well aware that
Bouillon, in his quality of first marshal of France, a Protestant and a
prince having great possessions on the frontier, and the brother-in-law
of Prince Maurice, considered himself entitled to the command of the
troops should they really be sent, and was very indignant at the idea of
its being offered to any one else.

   [Aerssens worked assiduously, two hours long on one occasion, to
   effect a reconciliation between the two great Protestant chiefs, but
   found Bouillon's demands "so shameful and unreasonable" that he
   felt obliged to renounce all further attempts. In losing Sully from
   the royal councils, the States' envoy acknowledged that the Republic
   had lost everything that could be depended on at the French court.
   "All the others are time-serving friends," he said, "or saints
   without miracles."--Aerssens to Barneveld, 11 June, 1610. ]

He advised earnestly therefore that the States should make a firm demand
for money instead of men, specifying the amount that might be considered
the equivalent of the number of troops originally stipulated.

It is one of the most singular spectacles in history; France sinking into
the background of total obscurity in an instant of time, at one blow of a
knife, while the Republic, which she had been patronizing, protecting,
but keeping always in a subordinate position while relying implicitly
upon its potent aid, now came to the front, and held up on its strong
shoulders an almost desperate cause. Henry had been wont to call the
States-General "his courage and his right arm," but he had always
strictly forbidden them to move an inch in advance of him, but ever to
follow his lead, and to take their directions from himself. They were a
part, and an essential one, in his vast designs; but France, or he who
embodied France, was the great providence, the destiny, the
all-directing, all-absorbing spirit, that was to remodel and control the
whole world. He was dead, and France and her policy were already in a
state of rapid decomposition.

Barneveld wrote to encourage and sustain the sinking state. "Our courage
is rising in spite and in consequence of the great misfortune," he said.
He exhorted the Queen to keep her kingdom united, and assured her that My
Lords the States would maintain themselves against all who dared to
assail them. He offered in their name the whole force of the Republic to
take vengeance on those who had procured the assassination, and to defend
the young king and the Queen-Mother against all who might make any
attempt against their authority. He further declared, in language not to
be mistaken, that the States would never abandon the princes and their
cause.

This was the earliest indication on the part of the Advocate of the
intention of the Republic--so long as it should be directed by his
counsels--to support the cause of the young king, helpless and incapable
as he was, and directed for the time being by a weak and wicked mother,
against the reckless and depraved grandees, who were doing their best to
destroy the unity and the independence of France, Cornelis van der Myle
was sent back to Paris on special mission of condolence and comfort from
the States-General to the sorely afflicted kingdom.

On the 7th of June, accompanied by Aerssens, he had a long interview with
Villeroy. That minister, as usual, wept profusely, and said that in
regard to Cleve it was impossible for France to carry out the designs of
the late king. He then listened to what the ambassadors had to urge, and
continued to express his melancholy by weeping. Drying his tears for a
time, he sought by a long discourse to prove that France during this
tender minority of the King would be incapable of pursuing the policy of
his father. It would be even too burthensome to fulfil the Treaty of
Hall. The friends of the crown, he said, had no occasion to further it,
and it would be much better to listen to propositions for a treaty.
Archduke Albert was content not to interfere in the quarrel if the Queen
would likewise abstain; Leopold's forces were altogether too weak to make
head against the army of the princes, backed by the power of My Lords the
States, and Julich was neither strong nor well garrisoned. He concluded
by calmly proposing that the States should take the matter in hand by
themselves alone, in order to lighten the burthen of France, whose vigour
had been cut in two by that accursed knife.

A more sneaking and shameful policy was never announced by the minister
of a great kingdom. Surely it might seem that Ravaillac had cut in twain
not the vigour only but the honour and the conscience of France. But the
envoys, knowing in their hearts that they were talking not with a French
but a Spanish secretary of state, were not disposed to be the dupes of
his tears or his blandishments.

They reminded him that the Queen-Regent and her ministers since the
murder of the King had assured the States-General and the princes of
their firm intention to carry out the Treaty of Hall, and they observed
that they had no authority to talk of any negotiation. The affair of the
duchies was not especially the business of the States, and the Secretary
was well aware that they had promised their succour on the express
condition that his Majesty and his army should lead the way, and that
they should follow. This was very far from the plan now suggested, that
they should do it all, which would be quite out of the question. France
had a strong army, they said, and it would be better to use it than to
efface herself so pitiably. The proposition of abstention on the part of
the Archduke was a delusion intended only to keep France out of the
field.

Villeroy replied by referring to English affairs. King James, he said,
was treating them perfidiously. His first letters after the murder had
been good, but by the following ones England seemed to wish to put her
foot on France's throat, in order to compel her to sue for an alliance.
The British ministers had declared their resolve not to carry out that
convention of alliance, although it had been nearly concluded in the
lifetime of the late king, unless the Queen would bind herself to make
good to the King of Great Britain that third part of the subsidies
advanced by France to the States which had been furnished on English
account!

This was the first announcement of a grievance devised by the politicians
now governing France to make trouble for the States with that kingdom and
with Great Britain likewise. According to a treaty made at Hampton Court
by Sully during his mission to England at the accession of James, it had
been agreed that one-third of the moneys advanced by France in aid of the
United Provinces should be credited to the account of Great Britain, in
diminution of the debt for similar assistance rendered by Elizabeth to
Henry. In regard to this treaty the States had not been at all consulted,
nor did they acknowledge the slightest obligation in regard to it. The
subsidies in men and in money provided for them both by France and by
England in their struggle for national existence had always been most
gratefully acknowledged by the Republic, but it had always been perfectly
understood that these expenses had been incurred by each kingdom out of
an intelligent and thrifty regard for its own interest. Nothing could be
more ridiculous than to suppose France and England actuated by
disinterested sympathy and benevolence when assisting the Netherland
people in its life-and-death struggle against the dire and deadly enemy
of both crowns. Henry protested that, while adhering to Rome in spiritual
matters, his true alliances and strength had been found in the United
Provinces, in Germany, and in Great Britain. As for the States, he had
spent sixteen millions of livres, he said, in acquiring a perfect
benevolence on the part of the States to his person. It was the best
bargain he had ever made, and he should take care to preserve it at any
cost whatever, for he considered himself able, when closely united with
them, to bid defiance to all the kings in Europe together.

Yet it was now the settled policy of the Queen-Regent's council, so far
as the knot of politicians guided by the Nuncius and the Spanish
ambassador in the entresols of the Louvre could be called a council, to
force the States to refund that third, estimated at something between
three and four million livres, which France had advanced them on account
of Great Britain.

Villeroy told the two ambassadors at this interview that, if Great
Britain continued to treat the Queen-Regent in such fashion, she would be
obliged to look about for other allies. There could hardly be doubt as to
the quarter in which Mary de' Medici was likely to look. Meantime, the
Secretary of State urged the envoys "to intervene at once to-mediate the
difference." There could be as little doubt that to mediate the
difference was simply to settle an account which they did not owe.

The whole object of the Minister at this first interview was to induce
the States to take the whole Cleve enterprise upon their own shoulders,
and to let France off altogether. The Queen-Regent as then advised meant
to wash her hands of the possessory princes once and for ever. The envoys
cut the matter short by assuring Villeroy that they would do nothing of
the kind. He begged them piteously not to leave the princes in the lurch,
and at the same time not to add to the burthens of France at so
disastrous a moment.

So they parted. Next day, however, they visited the Secretary again, and
found him more dismal and flaccid than ever.

He spoke feebly and drearily about the succour for the great enterprise,
recounted all the difficulties in the way, and, having thrown down
everything that the day before had been left standing, he tried to excuse
an entire change of policy by the one miserable crime.

He painted a forlorn picture of the council and of France. "I can myself
do nothing as I wish," added the undisputed controller of that
government's policy, and then with a few more tears he concluded by
requesting the envoys to address their demands to the Queen in writing.

This was done with the customary formalities and fine speeches on both
sides; a dull comedy by which no one was amused.

Then Bouillon came again, and assured them that there had been a chance
that the engagements of Henry, followed up by the promise of the
Queen-Regent, would be carried out, but now the fact was not to be
concealed that the continued battery of the Nuncius, of the ambassadors
of Spain and of the Archdukes, had been so effective that nothing sure or
solid was thenceforth to be expected; the council being resolved to
accept the overtures of the Archduke for mutual engagement to abstain
from the Julich enterprise.

Nothing in truth could be more pitiable than the helpless drifting of the
once mighty kingdom, whenever the men who governed it withdrew their
attention for an instant from their private schemes of advancement and
plunder to cast a glance at affairs of State. In their secret heart they
could not doubt that France was rushing on its ruin, and that in the
alliance of the Dutch commonwealth, Britain, and the German Protestants,
was its only safety. But they trembled before the Pope, grown bold and
formidable since the death of the dreaded Henry. To offend his Holiness,
the King of Spain, the Emperor, and the great Catholics of France, was to
make a crusade against the Church. Garnier, the Jesuit, preached from his
pulpit that "to strike a blow in the Cleve enterprise was no less a sin
than to inflict a stab in the body of our Lord." The Parliament of Paris
having ordered the famous treatise of the Jesuit Mariana--justifying the
killing of excommunicated kings by their subjects--to be publicly burned
before Notre Dame, the Bishop opposed the execution of the decree. The
Parliament of Paris, although crushed by Epernon in its attempts to fix
the murder of the King upon himself as the true culprit, was at least
strong enough to carry out this sentence upon a printed, volume
recommending the deed, and the Queen's council could only do its best to
mitigate the awakened wrath of the Jesuits at this exercise of legal
authority.--At the same time, it found on the whole so many more
difficulties in a cynical and shameless withdrawal from the Treaty of
Hall than in a nominal and tardy fulfilment of its conditions that it
resolved at last to furnish the 8000 foot and 2000 horse promised to the
possessory princes. The next best thing to abandoning entirely even this
little shred, this pitiful remnant, of the splendid designs of Henry was
to so arrange matters that the contingent should be feebly commanded, and
set on foot in so dilatory a manner that the petty enterprise should on
the part of France be purely perfunctory. The grandees of the kingdom had
something more important to do than to go crusading in Germany, with the
help of a heretic republic, to set up the possessory princes. They were
fighting over the prostrate dying form of their common mother for their
share of the spoils, stripping France before she was dead, and casting
lots for her vesture.

Soissons was on the whole in favour of the Cleve expedition. Epernon was
desperately opposed to it, and maltreated Villeroy in full council when
he affected to say a word, insincere as the Duke knew it to be, in favour
of executing agreements signed by the monarch, and sealed with the great
seal of France. The Duke of Guise, finding himself abandoned by the
Queen, and bitterly opposed and hated by Soissons, took sides with his
deaf and dumb and imbecile brother, and for a brief interval the Duke of
Sully joined this strange combination of the House of Lorraine and chiefs
of ancient Leaguers, who welcomed him with transport, and promised him
security.

Then Bouillon, potent by his rank, his possessions, and his authority
among the Protestants, publicly swore that he would ruin Sully and change
the whole order of the government. What more lamentable spectacle, what
more desolate future for the cause of religious equality, which for a
moment had been achieved in France, than this furious alienation of the
trusted leaders of the Huguenots, while their adversaries were carrying
everything before them? At the council board Bouillon quarrelled
ostentatiously with Sully, shook his fist in his face, and but for the
Queen's presence would have struck him. Next day he found that the Queen
was intriguing against himself as well as against Sully, was making a
cat's-paw of him, and was holding secret councils daily from which he as
well as Sully was excluded. At once he made overtures of friendship to
Sully, and went about proclaiming to the world that all Huguenots were to
be removed from participation in affairs of state. His vows of vengeance
were for a moment hushed by the unanimous resolution of the council that,
as first marshal of France, having his principality on the frontier, and
being of the Reformed religion, he was the fittest of all to command the
expedition. Surely it might be said that the winds and tides were not
more changeful than the politics of the Queen's government. The Dutch
ambassador was secretly requested by Villeroy to negotiate with Bouillon
and offer him the command of the Julich expedition. The Duke affected to
make difficulties, although burning to obtain the post, but at last
consented. All was settled. Aerssens communicated at once with Villeroy,
and notice of Bouillon's acceptance was given to the Queen, when, behold,
the very next day Marshal de la Chatre was appointed to the command
expressly because he was a Catholic. Of course the Duke of Bouillon,
furious with Soissons and Epernon and the rest of the government, was
more enraged than ever against the Queen. His only hope was now in Conde,
but Conde at the outset, on arriving at the Louvre, offered his heart to
the Queen as a sheet of white paper. Epernon and Soissons received him
with delight, and exchanged vows of an eternal friendship of several
weeks' duration. And thus all the princes of the blood, all the cousins
of Henry of Navarre, except the imbecile Conti, were ranged on the side
of Spain, Rome, Mary de' Medici, and Concino Concini, while the son of
the Balafre, the Duke of Mayenne, and all their adherents were making
common cause with the Huguenots. What better example had been seen
before, even in that country of pantomimic changes, of the effrontery
with which Religion was made the strumpet of Political Ambition?

All that day and the next Paris was rife with rumours that there was to
be a general massacre of the Huguenots to seal the new-born friendship of
a Conde with a Medici. France was to renounce all her old alliances and
publicly to enter into treaties offensive and defensive with Spain. A
league like that of Bayonne made by the former Medicean Queen-Regent of
France was now, at Villeroy's instigation, to be signed by Mary de'
Medici. Meantime, Marshal de la Chatre, an honest soldier and fervent
Papist, seventy-three years of age, ignorant of the language, the
geography, the politics of the country to which he was sent, and knowing
the road thither about as well, according to Aerssens, who was requested
to give him a little preliminary instruction, as he did the road to
India, was to co-operate with Barneveld and Maurice of Nassau in the
enterprise against the duchies.

These were the cheerful circumstances amid which the first step in the
dead Henry's grand design against the House of Austria and in support of
Protestantism in half Europe and of religious equality throughout
Christendom, was now to be ventured.

Cornelis van der Myle took leave of the Queen on terminating his brief
special embassy, and was fain to content himself with languid assurances
from that corpulent Tuscan dame of her cordial friendship for the United
Provinces. Villeroy repeated that the contingent to be sent was furnished
out of pure love to the Netherlands, the present government being in no
wise bound by the late king's promises. He evaded the proposition of the
States for renewing the treaty of close alliance by saying that he was
then negotiating with the British government on the subject, who insisted
as a preliminary step on the repayment of the third part of the sums
advanced to the States by the late king.

He exchanged affectionate farewell greetings and good wishes with Jeannin
and with the dropsical Duke of Mayenne, who was brought in his chair to
his old fellow Leaguer's apartments at the moment of the Ambassador's
parting interview.

There was abundant supply of smooth words, in the plentiful lack of any
substantial nutriment, from the representatives of each busy faction into
which the Medicean court was divided. Even Epernon tried to say a
gracious word to the retiring envoy, assuring him that he would do as
much for the cause as a good Frenchman and lover of his fatherland could
do. He added, in rather a surly way, that he knew very well how foully he
had been described to the States, but that the devil was not as black as
he was painted. It was necessary, he said, to take care of one's own
house first of all, and he knew very well that the States and all prudent
persons would do the same thing.

     ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

     And now the knife of another priest-led fanatic
     As with his own people, keeping no back-door open
     At a blow decapitated France
     Conclusive victory for the allies seemed as predestined
     Epernon, the true murderer of Henry
     Father Cotton, who was only too ready to betray the secrets
     Great war of religion and politics was postponed
     Jesuit Mariana--justifying the killing of excommunicated kings
     No man pretended to think of the State
     Practised successfully the talent of silence
     Queen is entirely in the hands of Spain and the priests
     Religion was made the strumpet of Political Ambition
     Smooth words, in the plentiful lack of any substantial
     Stroke of a broken table knife sharpened on a carriage wheel
     The assassin, tortured and torn by four horses
     They have killed him, 'e ammazato,' cried Concini
     Things he could tell which are too odious and dreadful
     Uncouple the dogs and let them run
     Vows of an eternal friendship of several weeks' duration
     What could save the House of Austria, the cause of Papacy
     Wrath of the Jesuits at this exercise of legal authority




THE LIFE AND DEATH of JOHN OF BARNEVELD, ADVOCATE OF HOLLAND

WITH A VIEW OF THE PRIMARY CAUSES AND MOVEMENTS OF THE THIRTY YEARS' WAR

By John Lothrop Motley, D.C.L., LL.D.

Life and Death of John of Barneveld, v4, 1610-12




CHAPTER V.

   Interviews between the Dutch Commissioners and King James--Prince
   Maurice takes command of the Troops--Surrender of Julich--Matthias
   crowned King of Bohemia--Death of Rudolph--James's Dream of a
   Spanish Marriage--Appointment of Vorstius in place of Arminius at
   Leyden--Interview between Maurice and Winwood--Increased Bitterness
   between Barneveld and Maurice--Projects of Spanish Marriages in
   France.

It is refreshing to escape from the atmosphere of self-seeking faction,
feverish intrigue, and murderous stratagem in which unhappy France was
stifling into the colder and calmer regions of Netherland policy.

No sooner had the tidings of Henry's murder reached the States than they
felt that an immense responsibility had fallen on their shoulders. It is
to the eternal honour of the Republic, of Barneveld, who directed her
councils, and of Prince Maurice, who wielded her sword, that she was
equal to the task imposed upon her.

There were open bets on the Exchange in Antwerp, after the death of
Henry, that Maurice would likewise be killed within the month. Nothing
seemed more probable, and the States implored the Stadholder to take
special heed to himself. But this was a kind of caution which the Prince
was not wont to regard. Nor was there faltering, distraction, cowardice,
or parsimony in Republican councils.

We have heard the strong words of encouragement and sympathy addressed by
the Advocate's instructions to the Queen-Regent and the leading statesmen
of France. We have seen their effects in that lingering sentiment of
shame which prevented the Spanish stipendiaries who governed the kingdom
from throwing down the mask as cynically as they were at first inclined
to do.

Not less manful and statesmanlike was the language held to the King of
Great Britain and his ministers by the Advocate's directions. The news of
the assassination reached the special ambassadors in London at three
o'clock of Monday, the 17th May. James returned to Whitehall from a
hunting expedition on the 21st, and immediately signified his intention
of celebrating the occasion by inviting the high commissioners of the
States to a banquet and festival at the palace.

Meantime they were instructed by Barneveld to communicate the results of
the special embassy of the States to the late king according to the
report just delivered to the Assembly. Thus James was to be informed of
the common resolution and engagement then taken to support the cause of
the princes. He was now seriously and explicitly to be summoned to assist
the princes not only with the stipulated 4000 men, but with a much
greater force, proportionate to the demands for the security and welfare
of Christendom, endangered by this extraordinary event. He was assured
that the States would exert themselves to the full measure of their
ability to fortify and maintain the high interests of France, of the
possessory princes, and of Christendom, so that the hopes of the
perpetrators of the foul deed would be confounded.

"They hold this to be the occasion," said the envoys, "to show to all the
world that it is within your power to rescue the affairs of France,
Germany, and of the United Provinces from the claws of those who imagine
for themselves universal monarchy."

They concluded by requesting the King to come to "a resolution on this
affair royally, liberally, and promptly, in order to take advantage of
the time, and not to allow the adversary to fortify himself in his
position"; and they pledged the States-General to stand by and second him
with all their power.

The commissioners, having read this letter to Lord Salisbury before
communicating it to the King, did not find the Lord Treasurer very prompt
or sympathetic in his reply. There had evidently been much jealousy at
the English court of the confidential and intimate relations recently
established with Henry, to which allusions were made in the documents
read at the present conference. Cecil, while expressing satisfaction in
formal terms at the friendly language of the States, and confidence in
the sincerity of their friendship for his sovereign, intimated very
plainly that more had passed between the late king and the authorities of
the Republic than had been revealed by either party to the King of Great
Britain, or than could be understood from the letters and papers now
communicated. He desired further information from the commissioners,
especially in regard to those articles of their instructions which
referred to a general rupture. They professed inability to give more
explanations than were contained in the documents themselves. If
suspicion was felt, they said, that the French King had been proposing
anything in regard to a general rupture, either on account of the retreat
of Conde, the affair of Savoy, or anything else, they would reply that
the ambassadors in France had been instructed to decline committing the
States until after full communication and advice and ripe deliberation
with his British Majesty and council, as well as the Assembly of the
States-General; and it had been the intention of the late king to have
conferred once more and very confidentially with Prince Maurice and Count
Lewis William before coming to a decisive resolution.

It was very obvious however to the commissioners that their statement
gave no thorough satisfaction, and that grave suspicions remained of
something important kept back by them. Cecil's manner was constrained and
cold, and certainly there were no evidences of profound sorrow at the
English court for the death of Henry.

"The King of France," said the High Treasurer, "meant to make a
master-stroke--a coup de maistre--but he who would have all may easily
lose all. Such projects as these should not have been formed or taken in
hand without previous communication with his Majesty of Great Britain."

All arguments on the part of the ambassadors to induce the Lord Treasurer
or other members of the government to enlarge the succour intended for
the Cleve affair were fruitless. The English troops regularly employed in
the States' service might be made use of with the forces sent by the
Republic itself. More assistance than this it was idle to expect, unless
after a satisfactory arrangement with the present regency of France. The
proposition, too, of the States for a close and general alliance was
coldly repulsed. "No resolution can be taken as to that," said Cecil;
"the death of the French king has very much altered such matters."

At a little later hour on the same day the commissioners, according to
previous invitation, dined with the King.

No one sat at the table but his Majesty and themselves, and they all kept
their hats on their heads. The King was hospitable, gracious, discursive,
loquacious, very theological.

He expressed regret for the death of the King of France, and said that
the pernicious doctrine out of which such vile crimes grew must be
uprooted. He asked many questions in regard to the United Netherlands,
enquiring especially as to the late commotions at Utrecht, and the
conduct of Prince Maurice on that occasion. He praised the resolute
conduct of the States-General in suppressing those tumults with force,
adding, however, that they should have proceeded with greater rigour
against the ringleaders of the riot. He warmly recommended the Union of
the Provinces.

He then led the conversation to the religious controversies in the
Netherlands, and in reply to his enquiries was informed that the points
in dispute related to predestination and its consequences.

"I have studied that subject," said James, "as well as anybody, and have
come to the conclusion that nothing certain can be laid down in regard to
it. I have myself not always been of one mind about it, but I will bet
that my opinion is the best of any, although I would not hang my
salvation upon it. My Lords the States would do well to order their
doctors and teachers to be silent on this topic. I have hardly ventured,
moreover, to touch upon the matter of justification in my own writings,
because that also seemed to hang upon predestination."

Thus having spoken with the air of a man who had left nothing further to
be said on predestination or justification, the King rose, took off his
hat, and drank a bumper to the health of the States-General and his
Excellency Prince Maurice, and success to the affair of Cleve.

After dinner there was a parting interview in the gallery. The King,
attended by many privy councillors and high functionaries of state, bade
the commissioners a cordial farewell, and, in order to show his
consideration for their government, performed the ceremony of knighthood
upon them, as was his custom in regard to the ambassadors of Venice. The
sword being presented to him by the Lord Chamberlain, James touched each
of the envoys on the shoulder as he dismissed him. "Out of respect to My
Lords the States," said they in their report, "we felt compelled to allow
ourselves to be burthened with this honour."

Thus it became obvious to the States-General that there was but little to
hope for from Great Britain or France. France, governed by Concini and by
Spain, was sure to do her best to traverse the designs of the Republic,
and, while perfunctorily and grudgingly complying with the letter of the
Hall treaty, was secretly neutralizing by intrigue the slender military
aid which de la Chatre was to bring to Prince Maurice. The close alliance
of France and Protestantism had melted into air. On the other hand the
new Catholic League sprang into full luxuriance out of the grave of
Henry, and both Spain and the Pope gave their hearty adhesion to the
combinations of Maximilian of Bavaria, now that the mighty designs of the
French king were buried with him. The Duke of Savoy, caught in the trap
of his own devising, was fain to send his son to sue to Spain for pardon
for the family upon his knees, and expiated by draining a deep cup of
humiliation his ambitious designs upon the Milanese and the matrimonial
alliance with France. Venice recoiled in horror from the position she
found herself in as soon as the glamour of Henry's seductive policy was
dispelled, while James of Great Britain, rubbing his hands with great
delight at the disappearance from the world of the man he so admired,
bewailed, and hated, had no comfort to impart to the States-General thus
left in virtual isolation. The barren burthen of knighthood and a sermon
on predestination were all he could bestow upon the high commissioners in
place of the alliance which he eluded, and the military assistance which
he point-blank refused. The possessory princes, in whose cause the sword
was drawn, were too quarrelsome and too fainthearted to serve for much
else than an incumbrance either in the cabinet or the field.

And the States-General were equal to the immense responsibility.
Steadily, promptly, and sagaciously they confronted the wrath, the
policy, and the power of the Empire, of Spain, and of the Pope. Had the
Republic not existed, nothing could have prevented that debateable and
most important territory from becoming provinces of Spain, whose power
thus dilated to gigantic proportions in the very face of England would
have been more menacing than in the days of the Armada. Had the Republic
faltered, she would have soon ceased to exist. But the Republic did not
falter.

On the 13th July, Prince Maurice took command of the States' forces,
13,000 foot and 3000 horse, with thirty pieces of cannon, assembled at
Schenkenschans. The July English and French regiments in the regular
service of the United Provinces were included in these armies, but there
were no additions to them: "The States did seven times as much,"
Barneveld justly averred, "as they had stipulated to do." Maurice, moving
with the precision and promptness which always marked his military
operations, marched straight upon Julich, and laid siege to that
important fortress. The Archdukes at Brussels, determined to keep out of
the fray as long as possible, offered no opposition to the passage of his
supplies up the Rhine, which might have been seriously impeded by them at
Rheinberg. The details of the siege, as of all the Prince's sieges,
possess no more interest to the general reader than the working out of a
geometrical problem. He was incapable of a flaw in his calculations, but
it was impossible for him quite to complete the demonstration before the
arrival of de la Chatre. Maurice received with courtesy the Marshal, who
arrived on the 18th August, at the head of his contingent of 8000 foot
and a few squadrons of cavalry, and there was great show of harmony
between them. For any practical purposes, de la Chatre might as well have
remained in France. For political ends his absence would have been
preferable to his presence.

Maurice would have rejoiced, had the Marshal blundered longer along the
road to the debateable land than he had done. He had almost brought
Julich to reduction. A fortnight later the place surrendered. The terms
granted by the conqueror were equitable. No change was to be made in the
liberty of Roman Catholic worship, nor in the city magistracy. The
citadel and its contents were to be handed over to the Princes of
Brandenburg and Neuburg. Archduke Leopold and his adherents departed to
Prague, to carry out as he best could his farther designs upon the crown
of Bohemia, this first portion of them having so lamentably failed, and
Sergeant-Major Frederick Pithan, of the regiment of Count Ernest Casimir
of Nassau, was appointed governor of Julich in the interest of the
possessory princes.

Thus without the loss of a single life, the Republic, guided by her
consummate statesman and unrivalled general, had gained an immense
victory, had installed the Protestant princes in the full possession of
those splendid and important provinces, and had dictated her decrees on
German soil to the Emperor of Germany, and had towed, as it were, Great
Britain and France along in her wake, instead of humbly following those
powers, and had accomplished all that she had ever proposed to do, even
in alliance with them both.

The King of England considered that quite enough had been done, and was
in great haste to patch up a reconciliation. He thought his ambassador
would soon "have as good occasion to employ his tongue and his pen as
General Cecil and his soldiers have done their swords and their
mattocks."

He had no sympathy with the cause of Protestantism, and steadily refused
to comprehend the meaning of the great movements in the duchies. "I only
wish that I may handsomely wind myself out of this quarrel, where the
principal parties do so little for themselves," he said.

De la Chatre returned with his troops to France within a fortnight after
his arrival on the scene. A mild proposition made by the French
government through the Marshal, that the provinces should be held in
seguestration by France until a decision as to the true sovereignty could
be reached, was promptly declined. Maurice of Nassau had hardly gained so
signal a triumph for the Republic and for the Protestant cause only to
hand it over to Concini and Villeroy for the benefit of Spain. Julich was
thought safer in the keeping of Sergeant Pithan.

By the end of September the States' troops had returned to their own
country.

Thus the Republic, with eminent success, had accomplished a brief and
brilliant campaign, but no statesman could suppose that the result was
more than a temporary one. These coveted provinces, most valuable in
themselves and from their important position, would probably not be
suffered peacefully to remain very long under the protection of the
heretic States-General and in the 'Condominium' of two Protestant
princes. There was fear among the Imperialists, Catholics, and Spaniards,
lest the baleful constellation of the Seven Provinces might be increased
by an eighth star. And this was a project not to be tolerated. It was
much already that the upstart confederacy had defied Pope, Emperor, and
King, as it were, on their own domains, had dictated arrangements in
Germany directly in the teeth of its emperor, using France as her
subordinate, and compelling the British king to acquiesce in what he most
hated.

But it was not merely to surprise Julich, and to get a foothold in the
duchies, that Leopold had gone forth on his adventure. His campaign, as
already intimated, was part of a wide scheme in which he had persuaded
his emperor-cousin to acquiesce. Poor Rudolph had been at last goaded
into a feeble attempt at revolt against his three brothers and his cousin
Ferdinand. Peace-loving, inert, fond of his dinner, fonder of his
magnificent collections of gems and intagli, liking to look out of window
at his splendid collection of horses, he was willing to pass a quiet
life, afar from the din of battles and the turmoil of affairs. As he
happened to be emperor of half Europe, these harmless tastes could not
well be indulged. Moon-faced and fat, silent and slow, he was not
imperial of aspect on canvas or coin, even when his brows were decorated
with the conventional laurel wreath. He had been stripped of his
authority and all but discrowned by his more bustling brothers Matthias
and Max, while the sombre figure of Styrian Ferdinand, pupil of the
Jesuits, and passionate admirer of Philip II., stood ever in the
background, casting a prophetic shadow over the throne and over Germany.

The brothers were endeavouring to persuade Rudolph that he would find
more comfort in Innsbruck than in Prague; that he required repose after
the strenuous labours of government. They told him, too, that it would be
wise to confer the royal crown of Bohemia upon Matthias, lest, being
elective and also an electorate, the crown and vote of that country might
pass out of the family, and so both Bohemia and the Empire be lost to the
Habsburgs. The kingdom being thus secured to Matthias and his heirs, the
next step, of course, was to proclaim him King of the Romans. Otherwise
there would be great danger and detriment to Hungary, and other
hereditary states of that conglomerate and anonymous monarchy which owned
the sway of the great Habsburg family.

The unhappy emperor was much piqued. He had been deprived by his brother
of Hungary, Moravia, and Austria, while Matthias was now at Prague with
an army, ostensibly to obtain ratification of the peace with Turkey, but
in reality to force the solemn transfer of those realms and extort the
promise of Bohemia. Could there be a better illustration of the
absurdities of such a system of Imperialism?

And now poor Rudolph was to be turned out of the Hradschin, and sent
packing with or without his collections to the Tyrol.

The bellicose bishop of Strassburg and Passau, brother of Ferdinand, had
little difficulty in persuading the downtrodden man to rise to vengeance.
It had been secretly agreed between the two that Leopold, at the head of
a considerable army of mercenaries which he had contrived to levy, should
dart into Julich as the Emperor's representative, seize the debateable
duchies, and hold them in sequestration until the Emperor should decide
to whom they belonged, and, then, rushing back to Bohemia, should
annihilate Matthias, seize Prague, and deliver Rudolph from bondage. It
was further agreed that Leopold, in requital of these services, should
receive the crown of Bohemia, be elected King of the Romans, and declared
heir to the Emperor, so far as Rudolph could make him his heir.

The first point in the program he had only in part accomplished. He had
taken Julich, proclaimed the intentions of the Emperor, and then been
driven out of his strong position by the wise policy of the States under
the guidance of Barneveld and by the consummate strategy of Maurice. It
will be seen therefore that the Republic was playing a world's game at
this moment, and doing it with skill and courage. On the issue of the
conflict which had been begun and was to be long protracted in the
duchies, and to spread over nearly all Christendom besides, would depend
the existence of the United Netherlands and the fate of Protestantism.

The discomfited Leopold swept back at the head of his mercenaries, 9000
foot and 3000 horse, through Alsace and along the Danube to Linz and so
to Prague, marauding, harrying, and black-mailing the country as he went.
He entered the city on the 15th of February 1611, fighting his way
through crowds of exasperated burghers. Sitting in full harness on
horseback in the great square before the cathedral, the warlike bishop
compelled the population to make oath to him as the Emperor's commissary.
The street fighting went on however day by day, poor Rudolph meantime
cowering in the Hradschin. On the third day, Leopold, driven out of the
town, took up a position on the heights, from which he commanded it with
his artillery. Then came a feeble voice from the Hradschin, telling all
men that these Passau marauders and their episcopal chief were there by
the Emperor's orders. The triune city--the old, the new, and the Jew--was
bidden to send deputies to the palace and accept the Imperial decrees. No
deputies came at the bidding. The Bohemians, especially the Praguers,
being in great majority Protestants knew very well that Leopold was
fighting the cause of the Papacy and Spain in Bohemia as well as in the
duchies.

And now Matthias appeared upon the scene. The Estates had already been in
communication with him, better hopes, for the time at least, being
entertained from him than from the flaccid Rudolph. Moreover a kind of
compromise had been made in the autumn between Matthias and the Emperor
after the defeat of Leopold in the duchies. The real king had fallen at
the feet of the nominal one by proxy of his brother Maximilian. Seven
thousand men of the army of Matthias now came before Prague under command
of Colonitz. The Passauers, receiving three months pay from the Emperor,
marched quietly off. Leopold disappeared for the time. His chancellor and
counsellor in the duchies, Francis Teynagel, a Geldrian noble, taken
prisoner and put to the torture, revealed the little plot of the Emperor
in favour of the Bishop, and it was believed that the Pope, the King of
Spain, and Maximilian of Bavaria were friendly to the scheme. This was
probable, for Leopold at last made no mystery of his resolve to fight
Protestantism to the death, and to hold the duchies, if he could, for the
cause of Rome and Austria.

Both Rudolph and Matthias had committed themselves to the toleration of
the Reformed religion. The famous "Majesty-Letter," freshly granted by
the Emperor (1609), and the Compromise between the Catholic and
Protestant Estates had become the law of the land. Those of the Bohemian
confession, a creed commingled of Hussism, Lutheranism, and Calvinism,
had obtained toleration. In a country where nine-tenths of the population
were Protestants it was permitted to Protestants to build churches and to
worship God in them unmolested. But these privileges had been extorted by
force, and there was a sullen, dogged determination which might be easily
guessed at to revoke them should it ever become possible. The House of
Austria, reigning in Spain, Italy, and Germany, was bound by the very law
of their being to the Roman religion. Toleration of other worship
signified in their eyes both a defeat and a crime.

Thus the great conflict, to be afterwards known as the Thirty Years' War,
had in reality begun already, and the Netherlands, in spite of the truce,
were half unconsciously taking a leading part in it. The odds at that
moment in Germany seemed desperately against the House of Austria, so
deep and wide was the abyss between throne and subjects which religious
difference had created. But the reserved power in Spain, Italy, and
Southern Germany was sure enough to make itself felt sooner or later on
the Catholic side.

Meantime the Estates of Bohemia knew well enough that the Imperial house
was bent on destroying the elective principle of the Empire, and on
keeping the crown of Bohemia in perpetuity. They had also discovered that
Bishop-Archduke Leopold had been selected by Rudolph as chief of the
reactionary movement against Protestantism. They could not know at that
moment whether his plans were likely to prove fantastic or dangerous.

So Matthias came to Prague at the invitation of the Estates, entering the
city with all the airs of a conqueror. Rudolph received his brother with
enforced politeness, and invited him to reside in the Hradschin. This
proposal was declined by Matthias, who sent a colonel however, with six
pieces of artillery, to guard and occupy that palace. The Passau
prisoners were pardoned and released, and there was a general
reconciliation. A month later, Matthias went in pomp to the chapel of the
holy Wenceslaus, that beautiful and barbarous piece of mediaeval,
Sclavonic architecture, with its sombre arches, and its walls encrusted
with huge precious stones. The Estates of Bohemia, arrayed in splendid
Zchech costume, and kneeling on the pavement, were asked whether they
accepted Matthias, King of Hungary, as their lawful king. Thrice they
answered Aye. Cardinal Dietrichstein then put the historic crown of St.
Wenceslaus on the King's head, and Matthias swore to maintain the laws
and privileges of Bohemia, including the recent charters granting liberty
of religion to Protestants. Thus there was temporary, if hollow, truce
between the religious parties, and a sham reconciliation between the
Emperor and his brethren. The forlorn Rudolph moped away the few months
of life left to him in the Hradschin, and died 1612 soon after the new
year. The House of Austria had not been divided, Matthias succeeded his
brother, Leopold's visions melted into air, and it was for the future to
reveal whether the Majesty-Letter and the Compromise had been written on
very durable material.

And while such was the condition of affairs in Germany immediately
following the Cleve and Julich campaign, the relations of the Republic
both to England and France were become rapidly more dangerous than they
ever had been. It was a severe task for Barneveld, and enough to overtax
the energies of any statesman, to maintain his hold on two such slippery
governments as both had become since the death of their great monarchs.
It had been an easier task for William the Silent to steer his course,
notwithstanding all the perversities, short-comings, brow-beatings, and
inconsistencies that he had been obliged to endure from Elizabeth and
Henry. Genius, however capricious and erratic at times, has at least
vision, and it needed no elaborate arguments to prove to both those
sovereigns that the severance of their policy from that of the
Netherlands was impossible without ruin to the Republic and incalculable
danger themselves.

But now France and England were both tending towards Spain through a
stupidity on the part of their rulers such as the gods are said to
contend against in vain. Barneveld was not a god nor a hero, but a
courageous and wide-seeing statesman, and he did his best. Obliged by his
position to affect admiration, or at least respect, where no emotion but
contempt was possible, his daily bread was bitter enough. It was
absolutely necessary to humour those whom knew to be traversing his
policy and desiring his ruin, for there was no other way to serve his
country and save it from impending danger. So long as he was faithfully
served by his subordinates, and not betrayed by those to whom he gave his
heart, he could confront external enemies and mould the policy of
wavering allies.

Few things in history are more pitiable than the position of James in
regard to Spain. For seven long years he was as one entranced, the slave
to one idea, a Spanish marriage for his son. It was in vain that his
counsellors argued, Parliament protested, allies implored. Parliament was
told that a royal family matter regarded himself alone, and that
interference on their part was an impertinence. Parliament's duty was a
simple one, to give him advice if he asked it, and money when he required
it, without asking for reasons. It was already a great concession that he
should ask for it in person. They had nothing to do with his affairs nor
with general politics. The mystery of government was a science beyond
their reach, and with which they were not to meddle. "Ne sutor ultra
crepidam," said the pedant.

Upon that one point his policy was made to turn. Spain held him in the
hollow of her hand. The Infanta, with two million crowns in dowry, was
promised, withheld, brought forward again like a puppet to please or
irritate a froward child. Gondemar, the Spanish ambassador, held him
spellbound. Did he falter in his opposition to the States--did he cease
to goad them for their policy in the duchies--did he express sympathy
with Bohemian Protestantism, or, as time went on, did he dare to lift a
finger or touch his pocket in behalf of his daughter and the unlucky
Elector-Palatine; did he, in short, move a step in the road which England
had ever trod and was bound to tread--the road of determined resistance
to Spanish ambition--instantaneously the Infanta withheld, and James was
on his knees again. A few years later, when the great Raleigh returned
from his trans-Alantic expedition, Gondemar fiercely denounced him to the
King as the worst enemy of Spain. The usual threat was made, the wand was
waved, and the noblest head in England fell upon the block, in pursuance
of an obsolete sentence fourteen years old.

It is necessary to hold fast this single clue to the crooked and amazing
entanglements of the policy of James. The insolence, the meanness, and
the prevarications of this royal toad-eater are only thus explained.

Yet Philip III. declared on his death-bed that he had never had a serious
intention of bestowing his daughter on the Prince.

The vanity and the hatreds of theology furnished the chief additional
material in the policy of James towards the Provinces. The diplomacy of
his reign so far as the Republic was concerned is often a mere mass of
controversial divinity, and gloomy enough of its kind. Exactly at this
moment Conrad Vorstius had been called by the University of Leyden to the
professorship vacant by the death of Arminius, and the wrath of Peter
Plancius and the whole orthodox party knew no bounds. Born in Cologne,
Vorstius had been a lecturer in Geneva, and beloved by Beza. He had
written a book against the Jesuit Belarmino, which he had dedicated to
the States-General. But he was now accused of Arminianism, Socianism,
Pelagianism, Atheism--one knew not what. He defended himself in writing
against these various charges, and declared himself a believer in the
Trinity, in the Divinity of Christ, in the Atonement. But he had written
a book on the Nature of God, and the wrath of Gomarus and Plancius and
Bogerman was as nothing to the ire of James when that treatise was one
day handed to him on returning from hunting. He had scarcely looked into
it before he was horror-struck, and instantly wrote to Sir Ralph Winwood,
his ambassador at the Hague, ordering him to insist that this blasphemous
monster should at once be removed from the country. Who but James knew
anything of the Nature of God, for had he not written a work in Latin
explaining it all, so that humbler beings might read and be instructed.

Sir Ralph accordingly delivered a long sermon to the States on the brief
supplied by his Majesty, told them that to have Vorstius as successor to
Arminius was to fall out of the frying-pan into the fire, and handed them
a "catalogue" prepared by the King of the blasphemies, heresies, and
atheisms of the Professor. "Notwithstanding that the man in full assembly
of the States of Holland," said the Ambassador with headlong and confused
rhetoric, "had found the means to palliate and plaster the dung of his
heresies, and thus to dazzle the eyes of good people," yet it was
necessary to protest most vigorously against such an appointment, and to
advise that "his works should be publicly burned in the open places of
all the cities."

The Professor never was admitted to perform his functions of theology,
but he remained at Leyden, so Winwood complained, "honoured, recognized
as a singularity and ornament to the Academy in place of the late Joseph
Scaliger."--"The friendship of the King and the heresy of Vorstius are
quite incompatible," said the Envoy.

Meantime the Advocate, much distressed at the animosity of England
bursting forth so violently on occasion of the appointment of a divinity
professor at Leyden, and at the very instant too when all the acuteness
of his intellect was taxed to keep on good or even safe terms with
France, did his best to stem these opposing currents. His private letters
to his old and confidential friend, Noel de Carom, States' ambassador in
London, reveal the perplexities of his soul and the upright patriotism by
which he was guided in these gathering storms. And this correspondence,
as well as that maintained by him at a little later period with the
successor of Aerssens at Paris, will be seen subsequently to have had a
direct and most important bearing upon the policy of the Republic and
upon his own fate. It is necessary therefore that the reader, interested
in these complicated affairs which were soon to bring on a sanguinary war
on a scale even vaster than the one which had been temporarily suspended,
should give close attention to papers never before exhumed from the musty
sepulchre of national archives, although constantly alluded to in the
records of important state trials. It is strange enough to observe the
apparent triviality of the circumstances out of which gravest events seem
to follow. But the circumstances were in reality threads of iron which
led down to the very foundations of the earth.

"I wish to know," wrote the Advocate to Caron, "from whom the Archbishop
of Canterbury received the advices concerning Vorstius in order to find
out what is meant by all this."

It will be remembered that Whitgift was of opinion that James was
directly inspired by the Holy Ghost, and that as he affected to deem him
the anointed High-priest of England, it was natural that he should
encourage the King in his claims to be 'Pontifex maximus' for the
Netherlands likewise.

"We are busy here," continued Barneveld, "in examining all things for the
best interests of the country and the churches. I find the nobles and
cities here well resolved in this regard, although there be some
disagreements 'in modo.' Vorstius, having been for many years professor
and minister of theology at Steinfurt, having manifested his learning in
many books written against the Jesuits, and proved himself pure and
moderate in doctrine, has been called to the vacant professorship at
Leyden. This appointment is now countermined by various means. We are
doing our best to arrange everything for the highest good of the
Provinces and the churches. Believe this and believe nothing else. Pay
heed to no other information. Remember what took place in Flanders,
events so well known to you. It is not for me to pass judgment in these
matters. Do you, too, suspend your judgment."

The Advocate's allusion was to the memorable course of affairs in
Flanders at an epoch when many of the most inflammatory preachers and
politicians of the Reformed religion, men who refused to employ a footman
or a housemaid not certified to be thoroughly orthodox, subsequently
after much sedition and disturbance went over to Spain and the Catholic
religion.

A few weeks later Barneveld sent copies to Caron of the latest harangues
of Winwood in the Assembly and the reply of My Lords on the Vorstian
business; that is to say, the freshest dialogue on predestination between
the King and the Advocate. For as James always dictated word for word the
orations of his envoy, so had their Mightinesses at this period no head
and no mouthpiece save Barneveld alone. Nothing could be drearier than
these controversies, and the reader shall be spared as much, as possible
the infliction of reading them. It will be necessary, however, for the
proper understanding of subsequent events that he should be familiar with
portions of the Advocate's confidential letters.

"Sound well the gentleman you wot of," said Barneveld, "and other
personages as to the conclusive opinions over there. The course of the
propositions does not harmonize with what I have myself heard out of the
King's mouth at other times, nor with the reports of former ambassadors.
I cannot well understand that the King should, with such preciseness,
condemn all other opinions save those of Calvin and Beza. It is important
to the service of this country that one should know the final intention
of his Majesty."

And this was the misery of the position. For it was soon to appear that
the King's definite and final intentions, varied from day to day. It was
almost humorous to find him at that moment condemning all opinions but
those of Calvin and Beza in Holland, while his course to the strictest
confessors of that creed in England was so ferocious.

But Vorstius was a rival author to his Majesty on subjects treated of by
both, so that literary spite of the most venomous kind, stirred into
theological hatred, was making a dangerous mixture. Had a man with the
soul and sense of the Advocate sat on the throne which James was
regarding at that moment as a professor's chair, the world's history
would have been changed.

"I fear," continued Barneveld, "that some of our own precisians have been
spinning this coil for us over there, and if the civil authority can be
thus countermined, things will go as in Flanders in your time. Pray
continue to be observant, discreet, and moderate."

The Advocate continued to use his best efforts to smooth the rising
waves. He humoured and even flattered the King, although perpetually
denounced by Winwood in his letters to his sovereign as tyrannical,
over-bearing, malignant, and treacherous. He did his best to counsel
moderation and mutual toleration, for he felt that these needless
theological disputes about an abstract and insoluble problem of casuistry
were digging an abyss in which the Republic might be swallowed up for
ever. If ever man worked steadily with the best lights of experience and
inborn sagacity for the good of his country and in defence of a
constitutional government, horribly defective certainly, but the only
legal one, and on the whole a more liberal polity than any then existing,
it was Barneveld. Courageously, steadily, but most patiently, he stood
upon that position so vital and daily so madly assailed; the defence of
the civil authority against the priesthood. He felt instinctively and
keenly that where any portion of the subjects or citizens of a country
can escape from the control of government and obey other head than the
lawful sovereignty, whether monarchical or republican, social disorder
and anarchy must be ever impending.

"We are still tortured by ecclesiastical disputes," he wrote a few weeks
later to Caron. "Besides many libels which have appeared in print, the
letters of his Majesty and the harangues of Winwood have been published;
to what end you who know these things by experience can judge. The truth
of the matter of Vorstius is that he was legally called in July 1610,
that he was heard last May before My Lords the States with six preachers
to oppose him, and in the same month duly accepted and placed in office.
He has given no public lectures as yet. You will cause this to be known
on fitting opportunity. Believe and cause to be believed that his
Majesty's letters and Sir R. Winwood's propositions have been and shall
be well considered, and that I am working with all my strength to that
end. You know the constitution of our country, and can explain everything
for the best. Many pious and intelligent people in this State hold
themselves assured that his Majesty according to his royal exceeding
great wisdom, foresight, and affection for the welfare of this land will
not approve that his letters and Winwood's propositions should be
scattered by the press among the common people. Believe and cause to be
believed, to your best ability, that My Lords the States of Holland
desire to maintain the true Christian, Reformed religion as well in the
University of Leyden as in all their cities and villages. The only
dispute is on the high points of predestination and its adjuncts,
concerning which moderation and a more temperate teaching is furthered by
some amongst us. Many think that such is the edifying practice in
England. Pray have the kindness to send me the English Confession of the
year 1572, with the corrections and alterations up to this year."

But the fires were growing hotter, fanned especially by Flemish
ministers, a brotherhood of whom Barneveld had an especial distrust, and
who certainly felt great animosity to him. His moderate counsels were but
oil to the flames. He was already depicted by zealots and calumniators as
false to the Reformed creed.

"Be assured and assure others," he wrote again to Caron, "that in the
matter of religion I am, and by God's grace shall remain, what I ever
have been. Make the same assurances as to my son-in-law and brother. We
are not a little amazed that a few extraordinary Puritans, mostly
Flemings and Frisians, who but a short time ago had neither property nor
kindred in the country, and have now very little of either, and who have
given but slender proofs of constancy or service to the fatherland, could
through pretended zeal gain credit over there against men well proved in
all respects. We wonder the more because they are endeavouring, in
ecclesiastical matters at least, to usurp an extraordinary authority,
against which his Majesty, with very weighty reasons, has so many times
declared his opinion founded upon God's Word and upon all laws and
principles of justice."

It was Barneveld's practice on this as on subsequent occasions very
courteously to confute the King out of his own writings and speeches, and
by so doing to be unconsciously accumulating an undying hatred against
himself in the royal breast. Certainly nothing could be easier than to
show that James, while encouraging in so reckless a manner the
emancipation of the ministers of an advanced sect in the Reformed Church
from control of government, and their usurpation of supreme authority
which had been destroyed in England, was outdoing himself in dogmatism
and inconsistency. A king-highpriest, who dictated his supreme will to
bishops and ministers as well as to courts and parliaments, was
ludicrously employed in a foreign country in enforcing the superiority of
the Church to the State.

"You will give good assurances," said the Advocate, "upon my word, that
the conservation of the true Reformed religion is as warmly cherished
here, especially by me, as at any time during the war."

He next alluded to the charges then considered very grave against certain
writings of Vorstius, and with equal fairness to his accusers as he had
been to the Professor gave a pledge that the subject should be examined.

"If the man in question," he said, "be the author, as perhaps falsely
imputed, of the work 'De Filiatione Christi' or things of that sort, you
may be sure that he shall have no furtherance here." He complained,
however, that before proof the cause was much prejudiced by the
circulation through the press of letters on the subject from important
personages in England. His own efforts to do justice in the matter were
traversed by such machinations. If the Professor proved to be guilty of
publications fairly to be deemed atheistical and blasphemous, he should
be debarred from his functions, but the outcry from England was doing
more harm than good.

"The published extract from the letter of the Archbishop," he wrote, "to
the effect that the King will declare My Lords the States to be his
enemies if they are not willing to send the man away is doing much harm."

Truly, if it had come to this--that a King of England was to go to war
with a neighbouring and friendly republic because an obnoxious professor
of theology was not instantly hurled from a university of which his
Majesty was not one of the overseers--it was time to look a little
closely into the functions of governments and the nature of public and
international law. Not that the sword of James was in reality very likely
to be unsheathed, but his shriekings and his scribblings, pacific as he
was himself, were likely to arouse passions which torrents of blood alone
could satiate.

"The publishing and spreading among the community," continued Barneveld,
"of M. Winwood's protestations and of many indecent libels are also doing
much mischief, for the nature of this people does not tolerate such
things. I hope, however, to obtain the removal according to his Majesty's
desire. Keep me well informed, and send me word what is thought in
England by the four divines of the book of Vorstius, 'De Deo,' and of his
declarations on the points sent here by his Majesty. Let me know, too, if
there has been any later confession published in England than that of the
year 1562, and whether the nine points pressed in the year 1595 were
accepted and published in 1603. If so, pray send them, as they maybe made
use of in settling our differences here."

Thus it will be seen that the spirit of conciliation, of a calm but
earnest desire to obtain a firm grasp of the most reasonable relations
between Church and State through patient study of the phenomena exhibited
in other countries, were the leading motives of the man. Yet he was
perpetually denounced in private as an unbeliever, an atheist, a tyrant,
because he resisted dictation from the clergy within the Provinces and
from kings outside them.

"It was always held here to be one of the chief infractions of the laws
and privileges of this country," he said, "that former princes had placed
themselves in matter of religion in the tutelage of the Pope and the
Spanish Inquisition, and that they therefore on complaint of their good
subjects could take no orders on that subject. Therefore it cannot be
considered strange that we are not willing here to fall into the same
obloquy. That one should now choose to turn the magistrates, who were
once so seriously summoned on their conscience and their office to adopt
the Reformation and to take the matter of religion to heart, into
ignorants, to deprive them of knowledge, and to cause them to see with
other eyes than their own, cannot by many be considered right and
reasonable. 'Intelligenti pauca.'"

   [The interesting letter from which I have given these copious
   extracts was ordered by its writer to be burned. "Lecta vulcano"
   was noted at the end of it, as was not unfrequently the case with
   the Advocate. It never was burned; but, innocent and reasonable as
   it seems, was made use of by Barneveld's enemies with deadly effect.
   J.L.M.]

Meantime M. de Refuge, as before stated, was on his way to the Hague, to
communicate the news of the double marriage. He had fallen sick at
Rotterdam, and the nature of his instructions and of the message he
brought remained unknown, save from the previous despatches of Aerssens.
But reports were rife that he was about to propose new terms of alliance
to the States, founded on large concessions to the Roman Catholic
religion. Of course intense jealousy was excited at the English court,
and calumny plumed her wings for a fresh attack upon the Advocate. Of
course he was sold to Spain, the Reformed religion was to be trampled out
in the Provinces, and the Papacy and Holy Inquisition established on its
ruins. Nothing could be more diametrically the reverse of the fact than
such hysterical suspicions as to the instructions of the ambassador
extraordinary from France, and this has already appeared. The Vorstian
affair too was still in the same phase, the Advocate professing a
willingness that justice should be done in the matter, while courteously
but firmly resisting the arrogant pretensions of James to take the matter
out of the jurisdiction of the States.

"I stand amazed," he said, "at the partisanship and the calumnious
representations which you tell me of, and cannot imagine what is thought
nor what is proposed. Should M. de Refuge make any such propositions as
are feared, believe, and cause his Majesty and his counsellors to
believe, that they would be of no effect. Make assurances upon my word,
notwithstanding all advices to the contrary, that such things would be
flatly refused. If anything is published or proven to the discredit of
Vorstius, send it to me. Believe that we shall not defend heretics nor
schismatics against the pure Evangelical doctrine, but one cannot
conceive here that the knowledge and judicature of the matter belongs
anywhere else than to My Lords the States of Holland, in whose service he
has legally been during four months before his Majesty made the least
difficulty about it. Called hither legally a year before, with the
knowledge and by the order of his Excellency and the councillors of state
of Holland, he has been countermined by five or six Flemings and
Frisians, who, without recognizing the lawful authority of the
magistrates, have sought assistance in foreign countries--in Germany and
afterwards in England. Yes, they have been so presumptuous as to
designate one of their own men for the place. If such a proceeding should
be attempted in England, I leave it to those whose business it would be
to deal with it to say what would be done. I hope therefore that one will
leave the examination and judgment of this matter freely to us, without
attempting to make us--against the principles of the Reformation and the
liberties and laws of the land--executors of the decrees of others, as
the man here wishes to obtrude it upon us."

He alluded to the difficulty in raising the ways and means; saying that
the quota of Holland, as usual, which was more than half the whole, was
ready, while other provinces were in arrears. Yet they were protected,
while Holland was attacked.

"Methinks I am living in a strange world," he said, "when those who have
received great honour from Holland, and who in their conscience know that
they alone have conserved the Commonwealth, are now traduced with such
great calumnies. But God the Lord Almighty is just, and will in His own
time do chastisement."

The affair of Vorstius dragged its slow length along, and few things are
more astounding at this epoch than to see such a matter, interesting
enough certainly to theologians, to the University, and to the rising
generation of students, made the topic of unceasing and embittered
diplomatic controversy between two great nations, who had most pressing
and momentous business on their hands. But it was necessary to humour the
King, while going to the verge of imprudence in protecting the Professor.
In March he was heard, three or four hours long, before the Assembly of
Holland, in answer to various charges made against him, being warned that
"he stood before the Lord God and before the sovereign authority of the
States." Although thought by many to have made a powerful defence, he was
ordered to set it forth in writing, both in Latin and in the vernacular.
Furthermore it was ordained that he should make a complete refutation of
all the charges already made or that might be made during the ensuing
three months against him in speech, book, or letter in England, Germany,
the Netherlands, or anywhere else. He was allowed one year and a half to
accomplish this work, and meantime was to reside not in Leyden, nor the
Hague, but in some other town of Holland, not delivering lectures or
practising his profession in any way. It might be supposed that
sufficient work had been thus laid out for the unfortunate doctor of
divinity without lecturing or preaching. The question of jurisdiction was
saved. The independence of the civil authority over the extreme
pretensions of the clergy had been vindicated by the firmness of the
Advocate. James bad been treated with overflowing demonstrations of
respect, but his claim to expel a Dutch professor from his chair and
country by a royal fiat had been signally rebuked. Certainly if the
Provinces were dependent upon the British king in regard to such a
matter, it was the merest imbecility for them to affect independence.
Barneveld had carried his point and served his country strenuously and
well in this apparently small matter which human folly had dilated into a
great one. But deep was the wrath treasured against him in consequence in
clerical and royal minds.

Returning from Wesel after the negotiations, Sir Ralph Winwood had an
important interview at Arnheim with Prince Maurice, in which they
confidentially exchanged their opinions in regard to the Advocate, and
mutually confirmed their suspicions and their jealousies in regard to
that statesman.

The Ambassador earnestly thanked the Prince in the King's name for his
"careful and industrious endeavours for the maintenance of the truth of
religion, lively expressed in prosecuting the cause against Vorstius and
his adherents."

He then said:

"I am expressly commanded that his Majesty conferring the present
condition of affairs of this quarter of the world with those
advertisements he daily receives from his ministers abroad, together with
the nature and disposition of those men who have in their hands the
managing of all business in these foreign parts, can make no other
judgment than this.

"There is a general ligue and confederation complotted far the subversion
and ruin of religion upon the subsistence whereof his Majesty doth judge
the main welfare of your realms and of these Provinces solely to consist.

"Therefore his Majesty has given me charge out of the knowledge he has of
your great worth and sufficiency," continued Winwood, "and the confidence
he reposes in your faith and affection, freely to treat with you on these
points, and withal to pray you to deliver your opinion what way would be
the most compendious and the most assured to contrequarr these complots,
and to frustrate the malice of these mischievous designs."

The Prince replied by acknowledging the honour the King had vouchsafed to
do him in holding so gracious an opinion of him, wherein his Majesty
should never be deceived.

"I concur in judgment with his Majesty," continued the Prince, "that the
main scope at which these plots and practices do aim, for instance, the
alliance between France and Spain, is this, to root out religion, and by
consequence to bring under their yoke all those countries in which
religion is professed.

"The first attempt," continued the Prince, "is doubtless intended against
these Provinces. The means to countermine and defeat these projected
designs I take to be these: the continuance of his Majesty's constant
resolution for the protection of religion, and then that the King would
be pleased to procure a general confederation between the kings, princes,
and commonwealths professing religion, namely, Denmark, Sweden, the
German princes, the Protestant cantons of Switzerland, and our United
Provinces.

"Of this confederation, his Majesty must be not only the director, but
the head and protector.

"Lastly, the Protestants of France should be, if not supported, at least
relieved from that oppression which the alliance of Spain doth threaten
upon them. This, I insist," repeated Maurice with great fervour, "is the
only coupegorge of all plots whatever between France and Spain."

He enlarged at great length on these points, which he considered so
vital.

"And what appearance can there be," asked Winwood insidiously and
maliciously, "of this general confederation now that these Provinces,
which heretofore have been accounted a principal member of the Reformed
Church, begin to falter in the truth of religion?

"He who solely governs the metropolitan province of Holland," continued
the Ambassador, with a direct stab in the back at Barneveld, "is reputed
generally, as your Excellency best knows, to be the only patron of
Vorstius, and the protector of the schisms of Arminius. And likewise,
what possibility is there that the Protestants of France can expect
favour from these Provinces when the same man is known to depend at the
devotion of France?"

The international, theological, and personal jealousy of the King against
Holland's Advocate having been thus plainly developed, the Ambassador
proceeded to pour into the Prince's ear the venom of suspicion, and to
inflame his jealousy against his great rival. The secret conversation
showed how deeply laid was the foundation of the political hatred, both
of James and of Maurice, against the Advocate, and certainly nothing
could be more preposterous than to imagine the King as the director and
head of the great Protestant League. We have but lately seen him
confidentially assuring his minister that his only aim was "to wind
himself handsomely out of the whole business." Maurice must have found it
difficult to preserve his gravity when assigning such a part to "Master
Jacques."

"Although Monsieur Barneveld has cast off all care of religion," said
Maurice, "and although some towns in Holland, wherein his power doth
reign, are infected with the like neglect, yet so long as so many good
towns in Holland stand sound, and all the other provinces of this
confederacy, the proposition would at the first motion be cheerfully
accepted.

"I confess I find difficulty in satisfying your second question,"
continued the Prince, "for I acknowledge that Barneveld is wholly devoted
to the service of France. During the truce negotiations, when some
difference arose between him and myself, President Jeannin came to me,
requiring me in the French king's name to treat Monsieur Barneveld well,
whom the King had received into his protection. The letters which the
States' ambassador in France wrote to Barneveld (and to him all
ambassadors address their despatches of importance), the very autographs
themselves, he sent back into the hands of Villeroy."

Here the Prince did not scruple to accuse the Advocate of doing the base
and treacherous trick against Aerssens which he had expressly denied
doing, and which had been done during his illness, as he solemnly avowed,
by a subordinate probably for the sake of making mischief.

Maurice then discoursed largely and vehemently of the suspicious
proceedings of Barneveld, and denounced him as dangerous to the State.
"When one man who has the conduct of all affairs in his sole power," he
said, "shall hold underhand intelligence with the ministers of Spain and
the Archduke, and that without warrant, thereby he may have the means so
to carry the course of affairs that, do what they will, these Provinces
must fall or stand at the mercy and discretion of Spain. Therefore some
good resolutions must be taken in time to hold up this State from a
sudden downfall, but in this much moderation and discretion must be
used."

The Prince added that he had invited his cousin Lewis William to appear
at the Hague at May day, in order to consult as to the proper means to
preserve the Provinces from confusion under his Majesty's safeguard, and
with the aid of the Englishmen in the States' service whom Maurice
pronounced to be "the strength and flower of his army."

Thus the Prince developed his ideas at great length, and accused the
Advocate behind his back, and without the faintest shadow of proof, of
base treachery to his friends and of high-treason. Surely Barneveld was
in danger, and was walking among pitfalls. Most powerful and deadly
enemies were silently banding themselves together against him. Could he
long maintain his hold on the slippery heights of power, where he was so
consciously serving his country, but where he became day by day a mere
shining mark for calumny and hatred?

The Ambassador then signified to the Prince that he had been instructed
to carry to him the King's purpose to confer on him the Order of the
Garter.

"If his Majesty holds me worthy of so great honour," said the Prince, "I
and my family shall ever remain bound to his service and that of his
royal posterity.

"That the States should be offended I see no cause, but holding the
charge I do in their service, I could not accept the honour without first
acquainting them and receiving their approbation."

Winwood replied that, as the King knew the terms on which the Prince
lived with the States, he doubted not his Majesty would first notify them
and say that he honoured the mutual amity between his realms and these
Provinces by honouring the virtues of their general, whose services, as
they had been most faithful and affectionate, so had they been
accompanied with the blessings of happiness and prosperous success.

Thus said Winwood to the King: "Your Majesty may plaster two walls with
one trowel ('una fidelia duos dealbare parietes'), reverse the designs of
them who to facilitate their own practices do endeavour to alienate your
affections from the good of these Provinces, and oblige to your service
the well-affected people, who know that there is no surety for
themselves, their wives and children, but under the protection of your
Majesty's favour. Perhaps, however, the favourers of Vorstius and
Arminius will buzz into the ears of their associates that your Majesty
would make a party in these Provinces by maintaining the truth of
religion and also by gaining unto you the affections of their chief
commander. But your Majesty will be pleased to pass forth whose worthy
ends will take their place, which is to honour virtue where you find it,
and the suspicious surmises of malice and envy in one instant will vanish
into smoke."

Winwood made no scruple in directly stating to the English government
that Barneveld's purpose was to "cause a divorce between the King's
realms and the Provinces, the more easily to precipitate them into the
arms of Spain." He added that the negotiation with Count Maurice then on
foot was to be followed, but with much secrecy, on account of the place
he held in the State.

Soon after the Ambassador's secret conversation with Maurice he had an
interview with Barneveld. He assured the Advocate that no contentment
could be given to his Majesty but by the banishment of Vorstius. "If the
town of Leyden should understand so much," replied Barneveld, "I fear the
magistrates would retain him still in their town."

"If the town of Leyden should retain Vorstius," answered Winwood, "to
brave or despight his Majesty, the King has the means, if it pleases him
to use them, and that without drawing sword, to range them to reason, and
to make the magistrates on their knees demand his pardon, and I say as
much of Rotterdam."

Such insolence on the part of an ambassador to the first minister of a
great republic was hard to bear. Barneveld was not the man to brook it.
He replied with great indignation. "I was born in liberty," he said with
rising choler, "I cannot digest this kind of language. The King of Spain
himself never dared to speak in so high a style."

"I well understand that logic," returned the Ambassador with continued
insolence. "You hold your argument to be drawn 'a majori ad minus;' but I
pray you to believe that the King of Great Britain is peer and companion
to the King of Spain, and that his motto is, 'Nemo me impune lacessit.'"

And so they parted in a mutual rage; Winwood adding on going out of the
room, "Whatsoever I propose to you in his Majesty's name can find with
you neither goust nor grace."

He then informed Lord Rochester that "the man was extremely distempered
and extremely distasted with his Majesty.

"Some say," he added, "that on being in England when his Majesty first
came to the throne he conceived some offence, which ever since hath
rankled in his heart, and now doth burst forth with more violent malice."

Nor was the matter so small as it superficially appeared. Dependence of
one nation upon the dictation of another can never be considered
otherwise than grave. The subjection of all citizens, clerical or lay, to
the laws of the land, the supremacy of the State over the Church, were
equally grave subjects. And the question of sovereignty now raised for
the first time, not academically merely, but practically, was the gravest
one of all. It was soon to be mooted vigorously and passionately whether
the United Provinces were a confederacy or a union; a league of sovereign
and independent states bound together by treaty for certain specified
purposes or an incorporated whole. The Advocate and all the principal
lawyers in the country had scarcely a doubt on the subject. Whether it
were a reasonable system or an absurd one, a vigorous or an imbecile form
of government, they were confident that the Union of Utrecht, made about
a generation of mankind before, and the only tie by which the Provinces
were bound together at all, was a compact between sovereigns.

Barneveld styled himself always the servant and officer of the States of
Holland. To them was his allegiance, for them he spoke, wrought, and
thought, by them his meagre salary was paid. At the congress of the
States-General, the scene of his most important functions, he was the
ambassador of Holland, acting nominally according to their instructions,
and exercising the powers of minister of foreign affairs and, as it were,
prime minister for the other confederates by their common consent. The
system would have been intolerable, the great affairs of war and peace
could never have been carried on so triumphantly, had not the
preponderance of the one province Holland, richer, more powerful, more
important in every way than the other six provinces combined, given to
the confederacy illegally, but virtually, many of the attributes of
union. Rather by usucaption than usurpation Holland had in many regards
come to consider herself and be considered as the Republic itself. And
Barneveld, acting always in the name of Holland and with the most modest
of titles and appointments, was for a long time in all civil matters the
chief of the whole country. This had been convenient during the war,
still more convenient during negotiations for peace, but it was
inevitable that there should be murmurs now that the cessation from
military operations on a large scale had given men time to look more
deeply into the nature of a constitution partly inherited and partly
improvised, and having many of the defects usually incident to both
sources of government.

The military interest, the ecclesiastical power, and the influence of
foreign nations exerted through diplomatic intrigue, were rapidly
arraying themselves in determined hostility to Barneveld and to what was
deemed his tyrannous usurpation. A little later the national spirit, as
opposed to provincial and municipal patriotism, was to be aroused against
him, and was likely to prove the most formidable of all the elements of
antagonism.

It is not necessary to anticipate here what must be developed on a
subsequent page. This much, however, it is well to indicate for the
correct understanding of passing events. Barneveld did not consider
himself the officer or servant of their High Mightinesses the
States-General, while in reality often acting as their master, but the
vassal and obedient functionary of their Great Mightinesses the States of
Holland, whom he almost absolutely controlled.

His present most pressing business was to resist the encroachments of the
sacerdotal power and to defend the magistracy. The casuistical questions
which were fast maddening the public mind seemed of importance to him
only as enclosing within them a more vital and practical question of
civil government.

But the anger of his opponents, secret and open, was rapidly increasing.
Envy, jealousy, political and clerical hate, above all, that deadliest
and basest of malignant spirits which in partisan warfare is bred out of
subserviency to rising and rival power, were swarming about him and
stinging him at every step. No parasite of Maurice could more effectively
pay his court and more confidently hope for promotion or reward than by
vilipending Barneveld. It would be difficult to comprehend the infinite
extent and power of slander without a study of the career of the Advocate
of Holland.

"I thank you for your advices," he wrote to Carom' "and I wish from my
heart that his Majesty, according to his royal wisdom and clemency
towards the condition of this country, would listen only to My Lords the
States or their ministers, and not to his own or other passionate persons
who, through misunderstanding or malice, furnish him with information and
so frequently flatter him. I have tried these twenty years to deserve his
Majesty's confidence, and have many letters from him reaching through
twelve or fifteen years, in which he does me honour and promises his
royal favour. I am the more chagrined that through false and passionate
reports and information--because I am resolved to remain good and true to
My Lords the States, to the fatherland, and to the true Christian
religion--I and mine should now be so traduced. I hope that God Almighty
will second my upright conscience, and cause his Majesty soon to see the
injustice done to me and mine. To defend the resolutions of My Lords the
States of Holland is my office, duty, and oath, and I assure you that
those resolutions are taken with wider vision and scope than his Majesty
can believe. Let this serve for My Lords' defence and my own against
indecent calumny, for my duty allows me to pursue no other course."

He again alluded to the dreary affair of Vorstius, and told the Envoy
that the venation caused by it was incredible. "That men unjustly defame
our cities and their regents is nothing new," he said; "but I assure you
that it is far more damaging to the common weal than the defamers
imagine."

Some of the private admirers of Arminius who were deeply grieved at so
often hearing him "publicly decried as the enemy of God" had been
defending the great heretic to James, and by so doing had excited the
royal wrath not only against the deceased doctor and themselves, but
against the States of Holland who had given them no commission.

On the other hand the advanced orthodox party, most bitter haters of
Barneveld, and whom in his correspondence with England he uniformly and
perhaps designedly called the Puritans, knowing that the very word was a
scarlet rag to James, were growing louder and louder in their demands.
"Some thirty of these Puritans," said he, "of whom at least twenty are
Flemings or other foreigners equally violent, proclaim that they and the
like of them mean alone to govern the Church. Let his Majesty compare
this proposal with his Royal Present, with his salutary declaration at
London in the year 1603 to Doctor Reynolds and his associates, and with
his admonition delivered to the Emperor, kings, sovereigns, and
republics, and he will best understand the mischievous principles of
these people, who are now gaining credit with him to the detriment of the
freedom and laws of these Provinces."

A less enlightened statesman than Barneveld would have found it easy
enough to demonstrate the inconsistency of the King in thus preaching
subserviency of government to church and favouring the rule of Puritans
over both. It needed but slender logic to reduce such a policy on his
part to absurdity, but neither kings nor governments are apt to value
themselves on their logic. So long as James could play the pedagogue to
emperors, kings, and republics, it mattered little to him that the
doctrines which he preached in one place he had pronounced flat blasphemy
in another.

That he would cheerfully hang in England the man whom he would elevate to
power in Holland might be inconsistency in lesser mortals; but what was
the use of his infallibility if he was expected to be consistent?

But one thing was certain. The Advocate saw through him as if he had been
made of glass, and James knew that he did. This fatal fact outweighed all
the decorous and respectful phraseology under which Barneveld veiled his
remorseless refutations. It was a dangerous thing to incur the wrath of
this despot-theologian.

Prince Maurice, who had originally joined in the invitation given by the
overseers of Leyden to Vorstius, and had directed one of the deputies and
his own "court trumpeter," Uytenbogaert, to press him earnestly to grant
his services to the University, now finding the coldness of Barneveld to
the fiery remonstrances of the King, withdrew his protection of the
Professor.

"The Count Maurice, who is a wise and understanding prince," said
Winwood, "and withal most affectionate to his Majesty's service, doth
foresee the miseries into which these countries are likely to fall, and
with grief doth pine away."

It is probable that the great stadholder had never been more robust, or
indeed inclining to obesity, than precisely at this epoch; but Sir Ralph
was of an imaginative turn. He had discovered, too, that the Advocate's
design was "of no other nature than so to stem the course of the State
that insensibly the Provinces shall fall by relapse into the hands of
Spain."

A more despicable idea never entered a human brain. Every action, word,
and thought, of Barneveld's life was a refutation of it. But he was
unwilling, at the bidding of a king, to treat a professor with contumely
who had just been solemnly and unanimously invited by the great
university, by the States of Holland, and by the Stadholder to an
important chair; and that was enough for the diplomatist and courtier.
"He, and only he," said Winwood passionately, "hath opposed his Majesty's
purposes with might and main." Formerly the Ambassador had been full of
complaints of "the craving humour of Count Maurice," and had censured him
bitterly in his correspondence for having almost by his inordinate
pretensions for money and other property brought the Treaty of Truce to a
standstill. And in these charges he was as unjust and as reckless as he
was now in regard to Barneveld.

The course of James and his agents seemed cunningly devised to sow
discord in the Provinces, to inflame the growing animosity of the
Stadholder to the Advocate, and to paralyse the action of the Republic in
the duchies. If the King had received direct instructions from the
Spanish cabinet how to play the Spanish game, he could hardly have done
it with more docility. But was not Gondemar ever at his elbow, and the
Infanta always in the perspective?

And it is strange enough that, at the same moment, Spanish marriages were
in France as well as England the turning-point of policy.

Henry had been willing enough that the Dauphin should espouse a Spanish
infanta, and that one of the Spanish princes should be affianced to one
of his daughters. But the proposition from Spain had been coupled with a
condition that the friendship between France and the Netherlands should
be at once broken off, and the rebellious heretics left to their fate.
And this condition had been placed before him with such arrogance that he
had rejected the whole scheme. Henry was not the man to do anything
dishonourable at the dictation of another sovereign. He was also not the
man to be ignorant that the friendship of the Provinces was necessary to
him, that cordial friendship between France and Spain was impossible, and
that to allow Spain to reoccupy that splendid possession between his own
realms and Germany, from which she had been driven by the Hollanders in
close alliance with himself, would be unworthy of the veriest schoolboy
in politics. But Henry was dead, and a Medici reigned in his place, whose
whole thought was to make herself agreeable to Spain.

Aerssens, adroit, prying, experienced, unscrupulous, knew very well that
these double Spanish marriages were resolved upon, and that the
inevitable condition refused by the King would be imposed upon his widow.
He so informed the States-General, and it was known to the French
government that he had informed them. His position soon became almost
untenable, not because he had given this information, but because the
information and the inference made from it were correct.

It will be observed that the policy of the Advocate was to preserve
friendly relations between France and England, and between both and the
United Provinces. It was for this reason that he submitted to the
exhortations and denunciations of the English ambassadors. It was for
this that he kept steadily in view the necessity of dealing with and
supporting corporate France, the French government, when there were many
reasons for feeling sympathy with the internal rebellion against that
government. Maurice felt differently. He was connected by blood or
alliance with more than one of the princes now perpetually in revolt.
Bouillon was his brother-in-law, the sister of Conde was his brother's
wife. Another cousin, the Elector-Palatine, was already encouraging
distant and extravagant hopes of the Imperial crown. It was not unnatural
that he should feel promptings of ambition and sympathy difficult to avow
even to himself, and that he should feel resentment against the man by
whom this secret policy was traversed in the well-considered interest of
the Republican government.

Aerssens, who, with the keen instinct of self-advancement was already
attaching himself to Maurice as to the wheels of the chariot going
steadily up the hill, was not indisposed to loosen his hold upon the man
through whose friendship he had first risen, and whose power was now
perhaps on the decline. Moreover, events had now caused him to hate the
French government with much fervour. With Henry IV. he had been
all-powerful. His position had been altogether exceptional, and he had
wielded an influence at Paris more than that exerted by any foreign
ambassador. The change naturally did not please him, although he well
knew the reasons. It was impossible for the Dutch ambassador to be
popular at a court where Spain ruled supreme. Had he been willing to eat
humiliation as with a spoon, it would not have sufficed. They knew him,
they feared him, and they could not doubt that his sympathies would ever
be with the malcontent princes. At the same time he did not like to lose
his hold upon the place, nor to have it known, as yet, to the world that
his power was diminished.

"The Queen commands me to tell you," said the French ambassador de Russy
to the States-General, "that the language of the Sieur Aerssens has not
only astonished her, but scandalized her to that degree that she could
not refrain from demanding if it came from My Lords the States or from
himself. He having, however, affirmed to her Majesty that he had express
charge to justify it by reasons so remote from the hope and the belief
that she had conceived of your gratitude to the Most Christian King and
herself, she is constrained to complain of it, and with great frankness."

Some months later than this Aerssens communicated to the States-General
the project of the Spanish marriage, "which," said he, "they have
declared to me with so many oaths to be false." He informed them that M.
de Refuge was to go on special mission to the Hague, "having been
designated to that duty before Aerssens' discovery of the marriage
project." He was to persuade their Mightinesses that the marriages were
by no means concluded, and that, even if they were, their Mightinesses
were not interested therein, their Majesties intending to remain by the
old maxims and alliances of the late king. Marriages, he would be
instructed to say, were mere personal conventions, which remained of no
consideration when the interests of the crown were touched.
"Nevertheless, I know very well," said Aerssens, "that in England these
negotiations are otherwise understood, and that the King has uttered
great complaints about them, saying that such a negotiation as this ought
not to have been concealed from him. He is pressing more than ever for
reimbursement of the debt to him, and especially for the moneys pretended
to have been furnished to your Mightinesses in his Majesty's name."

Thus it will be seen how closely the Spanish marriages were connected
with the immediate financial arrangements of France, England, and the
States, without reference to the wider political consequences
anticipated.

"The princes and most gentlemen," here continued the Ambassador, "believe
that these reciprocal and double marriages will bring about great changes
in Christendom if they take the course which the authors of them intend,
however much they may affect to believe that no novelties are impending.
The marriages were proposed to the late king, and approved by him, during
the negotiations for the truce, and had Don Pedro do Toledo been able to
govern himself, as Jeannin has just been telling me, the United Provinces
would have drawn from it their assured security. What he means by that, I
certainly cannot conceive, for Don Pedro proposed the marriage of the
Dauphin (now Louis XIII.) with the Infanta on the condition that Henry
should renounce all friendship with your Mightinesses, and neither openly
nor secretly give you any assistance. You were to be entirely abandoned,
as an example for all who throw off the authority of their lawful prince.
But his Majesty answered very generously that he would take no
conditions; that he considered your Mightinesses as his best friends,
whom he could not and would not forsake. Upon this Don Pedro broke off
the negotiation. What should now induce the King of Spain to resume the
marriage negotiations but to give up the conditions, I am sure I don't
know, unless, through the truce, his designs and his ambition have grown
flaccid. This I don't dare to hope, but fear, on the contrary, that he
will so manage the irresolution, weakness, and faintheartedness of this
kingdom as through the aid of his pensioned friends here to arrive at all
his former aims."

Certainly the Ambassador painted the condition of France in striking and
veracious colours, and he was quite right in sending the information
which he was first to discover, and which it was so important for the
States to know. It was none the less certain in Barneveld's mind that the
best, not the worst, must be made of the state of affairs, and that
France should not be assisted in throwing herself irrecoverably into the
arms of Spain.

"Refuge will tell you," said Aerssens, a little later, "that these
marriages will not interfere with the friendship of France for you nor
with her subsidies, and that no advantage will be given to Spain in the
treaty to your detriment or that of her other allies. But whatever fine
declarations they may make, it is sure to be detrimental. And all the
princes, gentlemen, and officers here have the same conviction. Those of
the Reformed religion believe that the transaction is directed solely
against the religion which your Mightinesses profess, and that the next
step will be to effect a total separation between the two religions and
the two countries."

Refuge arrived soon afterwards, and made the communication to the
States-General of the approaching nuptials between the King of France and
the Infanta of Spain; and of the Prince of Spain with Madame, eldest
daughter of France, exactly as Aerssens had predicted four months before.
There was a great flourish of compliments, much friendly phrase-making,
and their Mightinesses were informed that the communication of the
marriages was made to them before any other power had been notified, in
proof of the extraordinary affection entertained for them by France. "You
are so much interested in the happiness of France," said Refuge, "that
this treaty by which it is secured will be for your happiness also. He
did not indicate, however, the precise nature of the bliss beyond the
indulgence of a sentimental sympathy, not very refreshing in the
circumstances, which was to result to the Confederacy from this close
alliance between their firmest friend and their ancient and deadly enemy.
He would have found it difficult to do so.

"Don Rodrigo de Calderon, secretary of state, is daily expected from
Spain," wrote, Aerssens once more. "He brings probably the articles of
the marriages, which have hitherto been kept secret, so they say. 'Tis a
shrewd negotiator; and in this alliance the King's chief design is to
injure your Mightinesses, as M. de Villeroy now confesses, although he
says that this will not be consented to on this side. It behoves your
Mightinesses to use all your ears and eyes. It is certain these are much
more than private conventions. Yes, there is nothing private about them,
save the conjunction of the persons whom they concern. In short, all the
conditions regard directly the state, and directly likewise, or by
necessary consequence, the state of your Mightinesses' Provinces. I
reserve explanations until it shall please your Mightinesses to hear me
by word of mouth."

For it was now taken into consideration by the States' government whether
Aerssens was to remain at his post or to return. Whether it was his wish
to be relieved of his embassy or not was a question. But there was no
question that the States at this juncture, and in spite of the dangers
impending from the Spanish marriages, must have an ambassador ready to do
his best to keep France from prematurely sliding into positive hostility
to them. Aerssens was enigmatical in his language, and Barneveld was
somewhat puzzled.

"I have according to your reiterated requests," wrote the Advocate to the
Ambassador, "sounded the assembly of My Lords the States as to your
recall; but I find among some gentlemen the opinion that if earnestly
pressed to continue you would be willing to listen to the proposal. This
I cannot make out from your letters. Please to advise me frankly as to
your wishes, and assure yourself in everything of my friendship."

Nothing could be more straightforward than this language, but the Envoy
was less frank than Barneveld, as will subsequently appear. The subject
was a most important one, not only in its relation to the great affairs
of state, but to momentous events touching the fate of illustrious
personages.

Meantime a resolution was passed by the States of Holland "in regard to
the question whether Ambassador Aerssens should retain his office, yes or
no?" And it was decided by a majority of votes "to leave it to his candid
opinion if in his free conscience he thinks he can serve the public cause
there any longer. If yes, he may keep his office one year more. If no, he
may take leave and come home. In no case is his salary to be increased."

Surely the States, under the guidance of the Advocate, had thus acted
with consummate courtesy towards a diplomatist whose position from no
apparent fault of his own but by the force of circumstances--and rather
to his credit than otherwise--was gravely compromised.

     ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

     Advanced orthodox party-Puritans
     Atheist, a tyrant, because he resisted dictation from the clergy
     Give him advice if he asked it, and money when he required
     He was not imperial of aspect on canvas or coin
     He who would have all may easily lose all
     King's definite and final intentions, varied from day to day
     Neither kings nor governments are apt to value logic
     Outdoing himself in dogmatism and inconsistency
     Small matter which human folly had dilated into a great one
     The defence of the civil authority against the priesthood




THE LIFE AND DEATH of JOHN OF BARNEVELD, ADVOCATE OF HOLLAND

WITH A VIEW OF THE PRIMARY CAUSES AND MOVEMENTS OF THE THIRTY YEARS' WAR

By John Lothrop Motley, D.C.L., LL.D.

The Life of John of Barneveld, v5, 1609-14




CHAPTER VI.

   Establishment of the Condominium in the Duchies--Dissensions between
   the Neuburgers and Brandenburgers--Occupation of Julich by the
   Brandenburgers assisted by the States-General--Indignation in Spain
   and at the Court of the Archdukes--Subsidy despatched to Brussels
   Spinola descends upon Aix-la-Chapelle and takes possession of Orsoy
   and other places--Surrender of Wesel--Conference at Xanten--Treaty
   permanently dividing the Territory between Brandenburg and Neuburg--
   Prohibition from Spain--Delays and Disagreements.

Thus the 'Condominium' had been peaceably established.

Three or four years passed away in the course of which the evils of a
joint and undivided sovereignty of two rival houses over the same
territory could not fail to manifest themselves. Brandenburg, Calvinist
in religion, and for other reasons more intimately connected with and
more favoured by the States' government than his rival, gained ground in
the duchies. The Palatine of Neuburg, originally of Lutheran faith like
his father, soon manifested Catholic tendencies, which excited suspicion
in the Netherlands. These suspicions grew into certainties at the moment
when he espoused the sister of Maximilian of Bavaria and of the Elector
of Cologne. That this close connection with the very heads of the
Catholic League could bode no good to the cause of which the
States-General were the great promoters was self-evident. Very soon
afterwards the Palatine, a man of mature age and of considerable talents,
openly announced his conversion to the ancient church. Obviously the
sympathies of the States could not thenceforth fail to be on the side of
Brandenburg. The Elector's brother died and was succeeded in the
governorship of the Condeminium by the Elector's brother, a youth of
eighteen. He took up his abode in Cleve, leaving Dusseldorf to be the
sole residence of his co-stadholder.

Rivalry growing warmer, on account of this difference of religion,
between the respective partisans of Neuburg and Brandenburg, an attempt
was made in Dusseldorf by a sudden entirely unsuspected rising of the
Brandenburgers to drive their antagonist colleagues and their portion of
the garrison out of the city. It failed, but excited great anger. A more
successful effort was soon afterwards made in Julich; the Neuburgers were
driven out, and the Brandenburgers remained in sole possession of the
town and citadel, far the most important stronghold in the whole
territory. This was partly avenged by the Neuburgers, who gained absolute
control of Dusseldorf. Here were however no important fortifications, the
place being merely an agreeable palatial residence and a thriving mart.
The States-General, not concealing their predilection for Brandenburg,
but under pretext of guarding the peace which they had done so much to
establish, placed a garrison of 1400 infantry and a troop or two of horse
in the citadel of Julich.

Dire was the anger not unjustly excited in Spain when the news of this
violation of neutrality reached that government. Julich, placed midway
between Liege and Cologne, and commanding those fertile plains which make
up the opulent duchy, seemed virtually converted into a province of the
detested heretical republic. The German gate of the Spanish Netherlands
was literally in the hands of its most formidable foe.

The Spaniards about the court of the Archduke did not dissemble their
rage. The seizure of Julich was a stain upon his reputation, they cried.
Was it not enough, they asked, for the United Provinces to have made a
truce to the manifest detriment and discredit of Spain, and to have
treated her during all the negotiation with such insolence? Were they now
to be permitted to invade neutral territory, to violate public faith, to
act under no responsibility save to their own will? What was left for
them to do except to set up a tribunal in Holland for giving laws to the
whole of Northern Europe? Arrogating to themselves absolute power over
the controverted states of Cleve, Julich, and the dependencies, they now
pretended to dispose of them at their pleasure in order at the end
insolently to take possession of them for themselves.

These were the egregious fruits of the truce, they said tauntingly to the
discomfited Archduke. It had caused a loss of reputation, the very soul
of empires, to the crown of Spain. And now, to conclude her abasement,
the troops in Flanders had been shaven down with such parsimony as to
make the monarch seem a shopkeeper, not a king. One would suppose the
obedient Netherlands to be in the heart of Spain rather than outlying
provinces surrounded by their deadliest enemies. The heretics had gained
possession of the government at Aix-la-Chapelle; they had converted the
insignificant town of Mulheim into a thriving and fortified town in
defiance of Cologne and to its manifest detriment, and in various other
ways they had insulted the Catholics throughout those regions. And who
could wonder at such insolence, seeing that the army in Flanders,
formerly the terror of heretics, had become since the truce so weak as to
be the laughing-stock of the United Provinces? If it was expensive to
maintain these armies in the obedient Netherlands, let there be economy
elsewhere, they urged.

From India came gold and jewels. From other kingdoms came ostentation and
a long series of vain titles for the crown of Spain. Flanders was its
place of arms, its nursery of soldiers, its bulwark in Europe, and so it
should be preserved.

There was ground for these complaints. The army at the disposition of the
Archduke had been reduced to 8000 infantry and a handful of cavalry. The
peace establishment of the Republic amounted to 20,000 foot, 3000 horse,
besides the French and English regiments.

So soon as the news of the occupation of Julich was officially
communicated to the Spanish cabinet, a subsidy of 400,000 crowns was at
once despatched to Brussels. Levies of Walloons and Germans were made
without delay by order of Archduke Albert and under guidance of Spinola,
so that by midsummer the army was swollen to 18,000 foot and 3000 horse.
With these the great Genoese captain took the field in the middle of
August. On the 22nd of that month the army was encamped on some plains
mid-way between Maestricht and Aachen. There was profound mystery both at
Brussels and at the Hague as to the objective point of these military
movements. Anticipating an attack upon Julich, the States had meantime
strengthened the garrison of that important place with 3000 infantry and
a regiment of horse. It seemed scarcely probable therefore that Spinola
would venture a foolhardy blow at a citadel so well fortified and
defended. Moreover, there was not only no declaration of war, but strict
orders had been given by each of the apparent belligerents to their
military commanders to abstain from all offensive movements against the
adversary. And now began one of the strangest series of warlike
evolution's that were ever recorded. Maurice at the head of an army of
14,000 foot and 3000 horse manoeuvred in the neighbourhood of his great
antagonist and professional rival without exchanging a blow. It was a
phantom campaign, the prophetic rehearsal of dreadful marches and tragic
histories yet to be, and which were to be enacted on that very stage and
on still wider ones during a whole generation of mankind. That cynical
commerce in human lives which was to become one of the chief branches of
human industry in the century had already begun.

Spinola, after hovering for a few days in the neighbourhood, descended
upon the Imperial city of Aachen (Aix-la-Chapelle). This had been one of
the earliest towns in Germany to embrace the Reformed religion, and up to
the close of the sixteenth century the control of the magistracy had been
in the hands of the votaries of that creed. Subsequently the Catholics
had contrived to acquire and keep the municipal ascendency, secretly
supported by Archduke Albert, and much oppressing the Protestants with
imprisonments, fines, and banishment, until a new revolution which had
occurred in the year 1610, and which aroused the wrath of Spinola.
Certainly, according to the ideas of that day, it did not seem unnatural
in a city where a very large majority of the population were Protestants
that Protestants should have a majority in the town council. It seemed,
however, to those who surrounded the Archduke an outrage which could no
longer be tolerated, especially as a garrison of 600 Germans, supposed to
have formed part of the States' army, had recently been introduced into
the town. Aachen, lying mostly on an extended plain, had but very slight
fortifications, and it was commanded by a neighbouring range of hills. It
had no garrison but the 600 Germans. Spinola placed a battery or two on
the hills, and within three days the town surrendered. The inhabitants
expected a scene of carnage and pillage, but not a life was lost. No
injury whatever was inflicted on person or property, according to the
strict injunctions of the Archduke. The 600 Germans were driven out, and
1200 other Germans then serving under Catholic banners were put in their
places to protect the Catholic minority, to whose keeping the municipal
government was now confided.

Spinola, then entering the territory of Cleve, took session of Orsoy, an
important place on the Rhine, besides Duren, Duisburg, Kaster,
Greevenbroek and Berchem. Leaving garrisons in these places, he razed the
fortifications of Mulheim, much to the joy of the Archbishop and his
faithful subjects of Cologne, then crossed the Rhine at Rheinberg, and
swooped down upon Wesel. This flourishing and prosperous city had
formerly belonged to the Duchy of Cleve. Placed at the junction of the
Rhine and Lippe and commanding both rivers, it had become both powerful
and Protestant, and had set itself up as a free Imperial city,
recognising its dukes no longer as sovereigns, but only as protectors. So
fervent was it in the practice of the Reformed religion that it was
called the Rhenish Geneva, the cradle of German Calvinism. So important
was its preservation considered to the cause of Protestantism that the
States-General had urged its authorities to accept from them a garrison.
They refused. Had they complied, the city would have been saved, because
it was the rule in this extraordinary campaign that the belligerents made
war not upon each other, nor in each others territory, but against
neutrals and upon neutral soil. The Catholic forces under Spinola or his
lieutenants, meeting occasionally and accidentally with the Protestants
under Maurice or his generals, exchanged no cannon shots or buffets, but
only acts of courtesy; falling away each before the other, and each
ceding to the other with extreme politeness the possession of towns which
one had preceded the other in besieging.

The citizens of Wesel were amazed at being attacked, considering
themselves as Imperial burghers. They regretted too late that they had
refused a garrison from Maurice, which would have prevented Spinola from
assailing them. They had now nothing for it but to surrender, which they
did within three days. The principal condition of the capitulation was
that when Julich should be given up by the States Wesel should be
restored to its former position. Spinola then took and garrisoned the
city of Xanten, but went no further. Having weakened his army
sufficiently by the garrisons taken from it for the cities captured by
him, he declined to make any demonstration upon the neighbouring and
important towns of Emmerich and Rees. The Catholic commander falling
back, the Protestant moved forward. Maurice seized both Emmerich and
Rees, and placed garrisons within them, besides occupying Goch,
Kranenburg, Gennip, and various places in the County of Mark. This closed
the amicable campaign.

Spinola established himself and his forces near Wesel. The Prince
encamped near Rees. The two armies were within two hours' march of each
other. The Duke of Neuburg--for the Palatine had now succeeded on his
father's death to the ancestral dukedom and to his share of the
Condominium of the debateable provinces--now joined Spinola with an army
of 4000 foot and 400 horse. The young Prince of Brandenburg came to
Maurice with 800 cavalry and an infantry regiment of the
Elector-Palatine.

Negotiations destined to be as spectral and fleeting as the campaign had
been illusory now began. The whole Protestant world was aflame with
indignation at the loss of Wesel. The States' government had already
proposed to deposit Julich in the hands of a neutral power if the
Archduke would abstain from military movements. But Albert, proud of his
achievements in Aachen, refused to pause in his career. Let them make the
deposit first, he said.

Both belligerents, being now satiated with such military glory as could
flow from the capture of defenceless cities belonging to neutrals, agreed
to hold conferences at Xanten. To this town, in the Duchy of Cleve, and
midway between the rival camps, came Sir Henry Wotton and Sir Dudley
Carleton, ambassadors of Great Britain; de Refuge and de Russy, the
special and the resident ambassador of France at the Hague; Chancellor
Peter Pecquius and Counsellor Visser, to represent the Archdukes; seven
deputies from the United Provinces, three from the Elector of Cologne,
three from Brandenburg, three from Neuburg, and two from the
Elector-Palatine, as representative of the Protestant League.

In the earlier conferences the envoys of the Archduke and of the Elector
of Cologne were left out, but they were informed daily of each step in
the negotiation. The most important point at starting was thought to be
to get rid of the 'Condominium.' There could be no harmony nor peace in
joint possession. The whole territory should be cut provisionally in
halves, and each possessory prince rule exclusively within the portion
assigned to him. There might also be an exchange of domain between the
two every six months. As for Wesel and Julich, they could remain
respectively in the hands then holding them, or the fortifications of
Julich might be dismantled and Wesel restored to the status quo. The
latter alternative would have best suited the States, who were growing
daily more irritated at seeing Wesel, that Protestant stronghold, with an
exclusively Calvinistic population, in the hands of Catholics.

The Spanish ambassador at Brussels remonstrated, however, at the thought
of restoring his precious conquest, obtained without loss of time, money,
or blood, into the hands of heretics, at least before consultation with
the government at Madrid and without full consent of the King.

"How important to your Majesty's affairs in Flanders," wrote Guadaleste
to Philip, "is the acquisition of Wesel may be seen by the manifest grief
of your enemies. They see with immense displeasure your royal ensigns
planted on the most important place on the Rhine, and one which would
become the chief military station for all the armies of Flanders to
assemble in at any moment.

"As no acquisition could therefore be greater, so your Majesty should
never be deprived of it without thorough consideration of the case. The
Archduke fears, and so do his ministers, that if we refuse to restore
Wesel, the United Provinces would break the truce. For my part I believe,
and there are many who agree with me, that they would on the contrary be
more inclined to stand by the truce, hoping to obtain by negotiation that
which it must be obvious to them they cannot hope to capture by force.
But let Wesel be at once restored. Let that be done which is so much
desired by the United Provinces and other great enemies and rivals of
your Majesty, and what security will there be that the same Provinces
will not again attempt the same invasion? Is not the example of Julich
fresh? And how much more important is Wesel! Julich was after all not
situate on their frontiers, while Wesel lies at their principal gates.
Your Majesty now sees the good and upright intentions of those Provinces
and their friends. They have made a settlement between Brandenburg and
Neuburg, not in order to breed concord but confusion between those two,
not tranquillity for the country, but greater turbulence than ever
before. Nor have they done this with any other thought than that the
United Provinces might find new opportunities to derive the same profit
from fresh tumults as they have already done so shamelessly from those
which are past. After all I don't say that Wesel should never be
restored, if circumstances require it, and if your Majesty, approving the
Treaty of Xanten, should sanction the measure. But such a result should
be reached only after full consultation with your Majesty, to whose
glorious military exploits these splendid results are chiefly owing."

The treaty finally decided upon rejected the principle of alternate
possession, and established a permanent division of the territory in
dispute between Brandenburg and Neuburg.

The two portions were to be made as equal as possible, and lots were to
be thrown or drawn by the two princes for the first choice. To the one
side were assigned the Duchy of Cleve, the County of Mark, and the
Seigniories of Ravensberg and Ravenstein, with some other baronies and
feuds in Brabant and Flanders; to the other the Duchies of Julich and
Berg with their dependencies. Each prince was to reside exclusively
within the territory assigned to him by lot. The troops introduced by
either party were to be withdrawn, fortifications made since the
preceding month of May to be razed, and all persons who had been
expelled, or who had emigrated, to be restored to their offices,
property, or benefices. It was also stipulated that no place within the
whole debateable territory should be put in the hands of a third power.

These articles were signed by the ambassadors of France and England, by
the deputies of the Elector-Palatine and of the United Provinces, all
binding their superiors to the execution of the treaty. The arrangement
was supposed to refer to the previous conventions between those two
crowns, with the Republic, and the Protestant princes and powers. Count
Zollern, whom we have seen bearing himself so arrogantly as envoy from
the Emperor Rudolph to Henry IV., was now despatched by Matthias on as
fruitless a mission to the congress at Xanten, and did his best to
prevent the signature of the treaty, except with full concurrence of the
Imperial government. He likewise renewed the frivolous proposition that
the Emperor should hold all the provinces in sequestration until the
question of rightful sovereignty should be decided. The "proud and
haggard" ambassador was not more successful in this than in the
diplomatic task previously entrusted to him, and he then went to
Brussels, there to renew his remonstrances, menaces, and intrigues.

For the treaty thus elaborately constructed, and in appearance a
triumphant settlement of questions so complicated and so burning as to
threaten to set Christendom at any moment in a blaze, was destined to an
impotent and most unsatisfactory conclusion.

The signatures were more easily obtained than the ratifications.
Execution was surrounded with insurmountable difficulties which in
negotiation had been lightly skipped over at the stroke of a pen. At the
very first step, that of military evacuation, there was a stumble.
Maurice and Spinola were expected to withdraw their forces, and to
undertake to bring in no troops in the future, and to make no invasion of
the disputed territory.

But Spinola construed this undertaking as absolute; the Prince as only
binding in consequence of, with reference to, and for the duration of;
the Treaty of Xanten. The ambassadors and other commissioners, disgusted
with the long controversy which ensued, were making up their minds to
depart when a courier arrived from Spain, bringing not a ratification but
strict prohibition of the treaty. The articles were not to be executed,
no change whatever was to be made, and, above all, Wesel was not to be
restored without fresh negotiations with Philip, followed by his explicit
concurrence.

Thus the whole great negotiation began to dissolve into a shadowy,
unsatisfactory pageant. The solid barriers which were to imprison the
vast threatening elements of religious animosity and dynastic hatreds,
and to secure a peaceful future for Christendom, melted into films of
gossamer, and the great war of demons, no longer to be quelled by the
commonplaces of diplomatic exorcism, revealed its close approach. The
prospects of Europe grew blacker than ever.

The ambassadors, thoroughly disheartened and disgusted, all took their
departure from Xanten, and the treaty remained rather a by-word than a
solution or even a suggestion.

"The accord could not be prevented," wrote Archduke Albert to Philip,
"because it depended alone on the will of the signers. Nor can the
promise to restore Wesel be violated, should Julich be restored. Who can
doubt that such contravention would arouse great jealousies in France,
England, the United Provinces, and all the members of the heretic League
of Germany? Who can dispute that those interested ought to procure the
execution of the treaty? Suspicions will not remain suspicions, but they
light up the flames of public evil and disturbance. Either your Majesty
wishes to maintain the truce, in which case Wesel must be restored, or to
break the truce, a result which is certain if Wesel be retained. But the
reasons which induced your Majesty to lay down your arms remain the same
as ever. Our affairs are not looking better, nor is the requisition of
Wesel of so great importance as to justify our involving Flanders in a
new and more atrocious war than that which has so lately been suspended.
The restitution is due to the tribunal of public faith. It is a great
advantage when actions done for the sole end of justice are united to
that of utility. Consider the great successes we have had. How well the
affairs of Aachen and Mulbeim have been arranged; those of the Duke of
Neuburg how completely re-established. The Catholic cause, always
identical with that of the House of Austria, remains in great superiority
to the cause of the heretics. We should use these advantages well, and to
do so we should not immaturely pursue greater ones. Fortune changes,
flies when we most depend on her, and delights in making her chief sport
of the highest quality of mortals."

Thus wrote the Archduke sensibly, honourably from his point of view, and
with an intelligent regard to the interests of Spain and the Catholic
cause. After months of delay came conditional consent from Madrid to the
conventions, but with express condition that there should be absolute
undertaking on the part of the United Provinces never to send or maintain
troops in the duchies. Tedious and futile correspondence followed between
Brussels, the Hague, London, Paris. But the difficulties grew every
moment. It was a Penelope's web of negotiation, said one of the envoys.
Amid pertinacious and wire-drawn subtleties, every trace of practical
business vanished. Neuburg departed to look after his patrimonial
estates; leaving his interests in the duchies to be watched over by the
Archduke. Even Count Zollern, after six months of wrangling in Brussels,
took his departure. Prince Maurice distributed his army in various places
within the debateable land, and Spinola did the same, leaving a garrison
of 3000 foot and 300 horse in the important city of Wesel. The town and
citadel of Julich were as firmly held by Maurice for the Protestant
cause. Thus the duchies were jointly occupied by the forces of
Catholicism and Protestantism, while nominally possessed and administered
by the princes of Brandenburg and Neuburg. And so they were destined to
remain until that Thirty Years' War, now so near its outbreak, should
sweep over the earth, and bring its fiery solution at last to all these
great debates.




CHAPTER VII.

   Proud Position of the Republic--France obeys her--Hatred of Carleton
   --Position and Character of Aerssens--Claim for the "Third"--Recall
   of Aerssens--Rivalry between Maurice and Barneveld, who always
   sustains the separate Sovereignties of the Provinces--Conflict
   between Church and State added to other Elements of Discord in the
   Commonwealth--Religion a necessary Element in the Life of all
   Classes.

Thus the Republic had placed itself in as proud a position as it was
possible for commonwealth or kingdom to occupy. It had dictated the
policy and directed the combined military movements of Protestantism. It
had gathered into a solid mass the various elements out of which the
great Germanic mutiny against Rome, Spain, and Austria had been
compounded. A breathing space of uncertain duration had come to interrupt
and postpone the general and inevitable conflict. Meantime the Republic
was encamped upon the enemy's soil.

France, which had hitherto commanded, now obeyed. England, vacillating
and discontented, now threatening and now cajoling, saw for the time at
least its influence over the councils of the Netherlands neutralized by
the genius of the great statesman who still governed the Provinces,
supreme in all but name. The hatred of the British government towards the
Republic, while in reality more malignant than at any previous period,
could now only find vent in tremendous, theological pamphlets, composed
by the King in the form of diplomatic instructions, and hurled almost
weekly at the heads of the States-General, by his ambassador, Dudley
Carleton.

Few men hated Barneveld more bitterly than did Carleton. I wish to
describe as rapidly, but as faithfully, as I can the outline at least of
the events by which one of the saddest and most superfluous catastrophes
in modern history was brought about. The web was a complex one, wrought
apparently of many materials; but the more completely it is unravelled
the more clearly we shall detect the presence of the few simple but
elemental fibres which make up the tissue of most human destinies,
whether illustrious or obscure, and out of which the most moving pictures
of human history are composed.

The religious element, which seems at first view to be the all pervading
and controlling one, is in reality rather the atmosphere which surrounds
and colours than the essence which constitutes the tragedy to be
delineated.

Personal, sometimes even paltry, jealousy; love of power, of money, of
place; rivalry between civil and military ambition for predominance in a
free state; struggles between Church and State to control and oppress
each other; conflict between the cautious and healthy, but provincial and
centrifugal, spirit on the one side, and the ardent centralizing,
imperial, but dangerous, instinct on the other, for ascendancy in a
federation; mortal combat between aristocracy disguised in the plebeian
form of trading and political corporations and democracy sheltering
itself under a famous sword and an ancient and illustrious name;--all
these principles and passions will be found hotly at work in the
melancholy five years with which we are now to be occupied, as they have
entered, and will always enter, into every political combination in the
great tragi-comedy which we call human history. As a study, a lesson, and
a warning, perhaps the fate of Barneveld is as deserving of serious
attention as most political tragedies of the last few centuries.

Francis Aerssens, as we have seen, continued to be the Dutch ambassador
after the murder of Henry IV. Many of the preceding pages of this volume
have been occupied with his opinions, his pictures, his conversations,
and his political intrigues during a memorable epoch in the history of
the Netherlands and of France. He was beyond all doubt one of the ablest
diplomatists in Europe. Versed in many languages, a classical student,
familiar with history and international law, a man of the world and
familiar with its usages, accustomed to associate with dignity and tact
on friendliest terms with sovereigns, eminent statesmen, and men of
letters; endowed with a facile tongue, a fluent pen, and an eye and ear
of singular acuteness and delicacy; distinguished for unflagging industry
and singular aptitude for secret and intricate affairs;--he had by the
exercise of these various qualities during a period of nearly twenty
years at the court of Henry the Great been able to render inestimable
services to the Republic which he represented. Of respectable but not
distinguished lineage, not a Hollander, but a Belgian by birth, son of
Cornelis Aerssens, Grefter of the States-General, long employed in that
important post, he had been brought forward from a youth by Barneveld and
early placed by him in the diplomatic career, of which through his favour
and his own eminent talents he had now achieved the highest honours.

He had enjoyed the intimacy and even the confidence of Henry IV., so far
as any man could be said to possess that monarch's confidence, and his
friendly relations and familiar access to the King gave him political
advantages superior to those of any of his colleagues at the same court.

Acting entirely and faithfully according to the instructions of the
Advocate of Holland, he always gratefully and copiously acknowledged the
privilege of being guided and sustained in the difficult paths he had to
traverse by so powerful and active an intellect. I have seldom alluded in
terms to the instructions and despatches of the chief, but every
position, negotiation, and opinion of the envoy--and the reader has seen
many of them--is pervaded by their spirit. Certainly the correspondence
of Aerssens is full to overflowing of gratitude, respect, fervent
attachment to the person and exalted appreciation of the intellect and
high character of the Advocate.

There can be no question of Aerssen's consummate abilities. Whether his
heart were as sound as his head, whether his protestations of devotion
had the ring of true gold or not, time would show. Hitherto Barneveld had
not doubted him, nor had he found cause to murmur at Barneveld.

But the France of Henry IV., where the Dutch envoy was so all-powerful,
had ceased to exist. A duller eye than that of Aerssens could have seen
at a glance that the potent kingdom and firm ally of the Republic had
been converted, for a long time to come at least, into a Spanish
province. The double Spanish marriages (that of the young Louis XIII.
with the Infanta Anna, and of his sister with the Infante, one day to be
Philip IV.), were now certain, for it was to make them certain that the
knife of Ravaillac had been employed. The condition precedent to those
marriages had long been known. It was the renunciation of the alliance
between France and Holland. It was the condemnation to death, so far as
France had the power to condemn her to death, of the young Republic. Had
not Don Pedro de Toledo pompously announced this condition a year and a
half before? Had not Henry spurned the bribe with scorn? And now had not
Francis Aerssens been the first to communicate to his masters the fruit
which had already ripened upon Henry's grave? As we have seen, he had
revealed these intrigues long before they were known to the world, and
the French court knew that he had revealed them. His position had become
untenable. His friendship for Henry could not be of use to him with the
delicate-featured, double-chinned, smooth and sluggish Florentine, who
had passively authorized and actively profited by her husband's murder.

It was time for the Envoy to be gone. The Queen-Regent and Concini
thought so. And so did Villeroy and Sillery and the rest of the old
servants of the King, now become pensionaries of Spain. But Aerssens did
not think so. He liked his position, changed as it was. He was deep in
the plottings of Bouillon and Conde and the other malcontents against the
Queen-Regent. These schemes, being entirely personal, the rank growth of
the corruption and apparent disintegration of France, were perpetually
changing, and could be reduced to no principle. It was a mere struggle of
the great lords of France to wrest places, money, governments, military
commands from the Queen-Regent, and frantic attempts on her part to save
as much as possible of the general wreck for her lord and master Concini.

It was ridiculous to ascribe any intense desire on the part of the Duc de
Bouillon to aid the Protestant cause against Spain at that moment, acting
as he was in combination with Conde, whom we have just seen employed by
Spain as the chief instrument to effect the destruction of France and the
bastardy of the Queen's children. Nor did the sincere and devout
Protestants who had clung to the cause through good and bad report, men
like Duplessis-Mornay, for example, and those who usually acted with him,
believe in any of these schemes for partitioning France on pretence of
saving Protestantism. But Bouillon, greatest of all French fishermen in
troubled waters, was brother-in-law of Prince Maurice of Nassau, and
Aerssens instinctively felt that the time had come when he should anchor
himself to firm holding ground at home.

The Ambassador had also a personal grievance. Many of his most secret
despatches to the States-General in which he expressed himself very
freely, forcibly, and accurately on the general situation in France,
especially in regard to the Spanish marriages and the Treaty of Hampton
Court, had been transcribed at the Hague and copies of them sent to the
French government. No baser act of treachery to an envoy could be
imagined. It was not surprising that Aerssens complained bitterly of the
deed. He secretly suspected Barneveld, but with injustice, of having
played him this evil turn, and the incident first planted the seeds of
the deadly hatred which was to bear such fatal fruit.

"A notable treason has been played upon me," he wrote to Jacques de
Maldere, "which has outraged my heart. All the despatches which I have
been sending for several months to M. de Barneveld have been communicated
by copy in whole or in extracts to this court. Villeroy quoted from them
at our interview to-day, and I was left as it were without power of
reply. The despatches were long, solid, omitting no particularity for
giving means to form the best judgment of the designs and intrigues of
this court. No greater damage could be done to me and my usefulness. All
those from whom I have hitherto derived information, princes and great
personages, will shut themselves up from me . . . . What can be more
ticklish than to pass judgment on the tricks of those who are governing
this state? This single blow has knocked me down completely. For I was
moving about among all of them, making my profit of all, without any
reserve. M. de Barneveld knew by this means the condition of this kingdom
as well as I do. Certainly in a well-ordered republic it would cost the
life of a man who had thus trifled with the reputation of an ambassador.
I believe M. de Barneveld will be sorry, but this will never restore to
me the confidence which I have lost. If one was jealous of my position at
this court, certainly I deserved rather pity from those who should
contemplate it closely. If one wished to procure my downfall in order to
raise oneself above me, there was no need of these tricks. I have been
offering to resign my embassy this long time, which will now produce
nothing but thorns for me. How can I negotiate after my private
despatches have been read? L'Hoste, the clerk of Villeroy, was not so
great a criminal as the man who revealed my despatches; and L'Hoste was
torn by four horses after his death. Four months long I have been
complaining of this to M. de Barneveld. . . . Patience! I am groaning
without being able to hope for justice. I console myself, for my term of
office will soon arrive. Would that my embassy could have finished under
the agreeable and friendly circumstances with which it began. The man who
may succeed me will not find that this vile trick will help him much.
. . . Pray find out whence and from whom this intrigue has come."

Certainly an envoy's position could hardly be more utterly compromised.
Most unquestionably Aerssens had reason to be indignant, believing as he
did that his conscientious efforts in the service of his government had
been made use of by his chief to undermine his credit and blast his
character. There was an intrigue between the newly appointed French
minister, de Russy, at the Hague and the enemies of Aerssens to represent
him to his own government as mischievous, passionate, unreasonably
vehement in supporting the claims and dignity of his own country at the
court to which he was accredited. Not often in diplomatic history has an
ambassador of a free state been censured or removed for believing and
maintaining in controversy that his own government is in the right. It
was natural that the French government should be disturbed by the vivid
light which he had flashed upon their pernicious intrigues with Spain to
the detriment of the Republic, and at the pertinacity with which he
resisted their preposterous claim to be reimbursed for one-third of the
money which the late king had advanced as a free subsidy towards the war
of the Netherlands for independence. But no injustice could be more
outrageous than for the Envoy's own government to unite with the foreign
State in damaging the character of its own agent for the crime of
fidelity to itself.

Of such cruel perfidy Aerssens had been the victim, and he most
wrongfully suspected his chief as its real perpetrator.

The claim for what was called the "Third" had been invented after the
death of Henry. As already explained, the "Third" was not a gift from
England to the Netherlands. It was a loan from England to France, or more
properly a consent to abstain from pressing for payment for this
proportion of an old debt. James, who was always needy, had often
desired, but never obtained, the payment of this sum from Henry. Now that
the King was dead, he applied to the Regent's government, and the
Regent's government called upon the Netherlands, to pay the money.

Aerssens, as the agent of the Republic, protested firmly against such
claim. The money had been advanced by the King as a free gift, as his
contribution to a war in which he was deeply interested, although he was
nominally at peace with Spain. As to the private arrangements between
France and England, the Republic, said the Dutch envoy, was in no sense
bound by them. He was no party to the Treaty of Hampton Court, and knew
nothing of its stipulations.

Courtiers and politicians in plenty at the French court, now that Henry
was dead, were quite sure that they had heard him say over and over again
that the Netherlands had bound themselves to pay the Third. They
persuaded Mary de' Medici that she likewise had often heard him say so,
and induced her to take high ground on the subject in her interviews with
Aerssens. The luckless queen, who was always in want of money to satisfy
the insatiable greed of her favourites, and to buy off the enmity of the
great princes, was very vehement--although she knew as much of those
transactions as of the finances of Prester John or the Lama of Thibet--in
maintaining this claim of her government upon the States.

"After talking with the ministers," said Aerssens, "I had an interview
with the Queen. I knew that she had been taught her lesson, to insist on
the payment of the Third. So I did not speak at all of the matter, but
talked exclusively and at length of the French regiments in the States'
service. She was embarrassed, and did not know exactly what to say. At
last, without replying a single word to what I had been saying, she
became very red in the face, and asked me if I were not instructed to
speak of the money due to England. Whereupon I spoke in the sense already
indicated. She interrupted me by saying she had a perfect recollection
that the late king intended and understood that we were to pay the Third
to England, and had talked with her very seriously on the subject. If he
were living, he would think it very strange, she said, that we refused;
and so on.

"Soissons, too, pretends to remember perfectly that such were the King's
intentions. 'Tis a very strange thing, Sir. Every one knows now the
secrets of the late king, if you are willing to listen. Yet he was not in
the habit of taking all the world into his confidence. The Queen takes
her opinions as they give them to her. 'Tis a very good princess, but I
am sorry she is so ignorant of affairs. As she says she remembers, one is
obliged to say one believes her. But I, who knew the King so intimately,
and saw him so constantly, know that he could only have said that the
Third was paid in acquittal of his debts to and for account of the King
of England, and not that we were to make restitution thereof. The
Chancellor tells me my refusal has been taken as an affront by the Queen,
and Puysieux says it is a contempt which she can't swallow."

Aerssens on his part remained firm; his pertinacity being the greater as
he thoroughly understood the subject which he was talking about, an
advantage which was rarely shared in by those with whom he conversed. The
Queen, highly scandalized by his demeanour, became from that time forth
his bitter enemy, and, as already stated, was resolved to be rid of him.

Nor was the Envoy at first desirous of remaining. He had felt after
Henry's death and Sully's disgrace, and the complete transformation of
the France which he had known, that his power of usefulness was gone.
"Our enemies," he said, "have got the advantage which I used to have in
times past, and I recognize a great coldness towards us, which is
increasing every day." Nevertheless, he yielded reluctantly to
Barneveld's request that he should for the time at least remain at his
post. Later on, as the intrigues against him began to unfold themselves,
and his faithful services were made use of at home to blacken his
character and procure his removal, he refused to resign, as to do so
would be to play into the hands of his enemies, and by inference at least
to accuse himself of infidelity to his trust.

But his concealed rage and his rancor grew more deadly every day. He was
fully aware of the plots against him, although he found it difficult to
trace them to their source.

"I doubt not," he wrote to Jacques de Maldere, the distinguished
diplomatist and senator, who had recently returned from his embassy to
England, "that this beautiful proposition of de Russy has been sent to
your Province of Zealand. Does it not seem to you a plot well woven as
well in Holland as at this court to remove me from my post with
disreputation? What have I done that should cause the Queen to disapprove
my proceedings? Since the death of the late king I have always opposed
the Third, which they have been trying to fix upon the treasury, on the
ground that Henry never spoke to me of restitution, that the receipts
given were simple ones, and that the money given was spent for the common
benefit of France and the States under direction of the King's
government. But I am expected here to obey M. de Villeroy, who says that
it was the intention of the late king to oblige us to make the payment. I
am not accustomed to obey authority if it be not supported by reason. It
is for my masters to reply and to defend me. The Queen has no reason to
complain. I have maintained the interests of my superiors. But this is
not the cause of the complaints. My misfortune is that all my despatches
have been sent from Holland in copy to this court. Most of them contained
free pictures of the condition and dealings of those who govern here. M.
de Villeroy has found himself depicted often, and now under pretext of a
public negotiation he has found an opportunity of revenging himself. . . .
Besides this cause which Villeroy has found for combing my head, Russy
has given notice here that I have kept my masters in the hopes of being
honourably exempted from the claims of this government. The long letter
which I wrote to M. de Barneveld justifies my proceedings."

It is no wonder that the Ambassador was galled to the quick by the
outrage which those concerned in the government were seeking to put upon
him. How could an honest man fail to be overwhelmed with rage and anguish
at being dishonoured before the world by his masters for scrupulously
doing his duty, and for maintaining the rights and dignity of his own
country? He knew that the charges were but pretexts, that the motives of
his enemies were as base as the intrigues themselves, but he also knew
that the world usually sides with the government against the individual,
and that a man's reputation is rarely strong enough to maintain itself
unsullied in a foreign land when his own government stretches forth its
hand not to, shield, but to stab him.

   [See the similarity of Aerssens position to that of Motley 250 years
   later, in the biographical sketch of Motley by Oliver Wendell
   Holmes. D.W.]

"I know," he said, "that this plot has been woven partly in Holland and
partly here by good correspondence, in order to drive me from my post
with disreputation. To this has tended the communication of my despatches
to make me lose my best friends. This too was the object of the
particular imparting to de Russy of all my propositions, in order to draw
a complaint against me from this court.

"But as I have discovered this accurately, I have resolved to offer to my
masters the continuance of my very humble service for such time and under
such conditions as they may think good to prescribe. I prefer forcing my
natural and private inclinations to giving an opportunity for the
ministers of this kingdom to discredit us, and to my enemies to succeed
in injuring me, and by fraud and malice to force me from my post . . . I
am truly sorry, being ready to retire, wishing to have an honourable
testimony in recompense of my labours, that one is in such hurry to take
advantage of my fall. I cannot believe that my masters wish to suffer
this. They are too prudent, and cannot be ignorant of the treachery which
has been practised on me. I have maintained their cause. If they have
chosen to throw down the fruits of my industry, the blame should be
imputed to those who consider their own ambition more than the interests
of the public . . . . What envoy will ever dare to speak with vigour if
he is not sustained by the government at home? . . . . . . My enemies
have misrepresented my actions, and my language as passionate,
exaggerated, mischievous, but I have no passion except for the service of
my superiors. They say that I have a dark and distrustful disposition,
but I have been alarmed at the alliance now forming here with the King of
Spain, through the policy of M. de Villeroy. I was the first to discover
this intrigue, which they thought buried in the bosom of the Triumvirate.
I gave notice of it to My Lords the States as in duty bound. It all came
back to the government in the copies furnished of my secret despatches.
This is the real source of the complaints against me. The rest of the
charges, relating to the Third and other matters, are but pretexts. To
parry the blow, they pretend that all that is said and done with the
Spaniard is but feigning. Who is going to believe that? Has not the Pope
intervened in the affair? . . . I tell you they are furious here because
I have my eyes open. I see too far into their affairs to suit their
purposes. A new man would suit them better."

His position was hopelessly compromised. He remained in Paris, however,
month after month, and even year after year, defying his enemies both at
the Queen's court and in Holland, feeding fat the grudge he bore to
Barneveld as the supposed author of the intrigue against him, and drawing
closer the personal bands which united him to Bouillon and through him to
Prince Maurice.

The wrath of the Ambassador flamed forth without disguise against
Barneveld and all his adherents when his removal, as will be related on a
subsequent page, was at last effected. And his hatred was likely to be
deadly. A man with a shrewd, vivid face, cleanly cut features and a
restless eye; wearing a close-fitting skull cap, which gave him something
the lock of a monk, but with the thoroughbred and facile demeanour of one
familiar with the world; stealthy, smooth, and cruel, a man coldly
intellectual, who feared no one, loved but few, and never forgot or
forgave; Francis d'Aerssens, devoured by ambition and burning with
revenge, was a dangerous enemy.

Time was soon to show whether it was safe to injure him. Barneveld, from
well-considered motives of public policy, was favouring his honourable
recall. But he allowed a decorous interval of more than three years to
elapse in which to terminate his affairs, and to take a deliberate
departure from that French embassy to which the Advocate had originally
promoted him, and in which there had been so many years of mutual benefit
and confidence between the two statesmen. He used no underhand means. He
did not abuse the power of the States-General which he wielded to cast
him suddenly and brutally from the distinguished post which he occupied,
and so to attempt to dishonour him before the world. Nothing could be
more respectful and conciliatory than the attitude of the government from
first to last towards this distinguished functionary. The Republic
respected itself too much to deal with honourable agents whose services
it felt obliged to dispense with as with vulgar malefactors who had been
detected in crime. But Aerssens believed that it was the Advocate who had
caused copies of his despatches to be sent to the French court, and that
he had deliberately and for a fixed purpose been undermining his
influence at home and abroad and blackening his character. All his
ancient feelings of devotion, if they had ever genuinely existed towards
his former friend and patron, turned to gall. He was almost ready to deny
that he had ever respected Barneveld, appreciated his public services,
admired his intellect, or felt gratitude for his guidance.

A fierce controversy--to which at a later period it will be necessary to
call the reader's attention, because it is intimately connected with dark
scenes afterwards to be enacted--took place between the late ambassador
and Cornelis van der Myle. Meantime Barneveld pursued the policy which he
had marked out for the States-General in regard to France.

Certainly it was a difficult problem. There could be no doubt that
metamorphosed France could only be a dangerous ally for the Republic. It
was in reality impossible that she should be her ally at all. And this
Barneveld knew. Still it was better, so he thought, for the Netherlands
that France should exist than that it should fall into utter
decomposition. France, though under the influence of Spain, and doubly
allied by marriage contracts to Spain, was better than Spain itself in
the place of France. This seemed to be the only choice between two evils.
Should the whole weight of the States-General be thrown into the scale of
the malcontent and mutinous princes against the established but tottering
government of France, it was difficult to say how soon Spain might
literally, as well as inferentially, reign in Paris.

Between the rebellion and the legitimate government, therefore, Barneveld
did not hesitate. France, corporate France, with which the Republic had
bean so long in close and mutually advantageous alliance, and from whose
late monarch she had received such constant and valuable benefits, was in
the Advocate's opinion the only power to be recognised, Papal and Spanish
though it was. The advantage of an alliance with the fickle,
self-seeking, and ever changing mutiny, that was seeking to make use of
Protestantism to effect its own ends, was in his eyes rather specious
than real.

By this policy, while making the breach irreparable with Aerssens and as
many leading politicians as Aerssens could influence, he first brought on
himself the stupid accusation of swerving towards Spain. Dull murmurs
like these, which were now but faintly making themselves heard against
the reputation of the Advocate, were destined ere long to swell into a
mighty roar; but he hardly listened now to insinuations which seemed
infinitely below his contempt. He still effectually ruled the nation
through his influence in the States of Holland, where he reigned supreme.
Thus far Barneveld and My Lords the States-General were one personage.

But there was another great man in the State who had at last grown
impatient of the Advocate's power, and was secretly resolved to brook it
no longer. Maurice of Nassau had felt himself too long rebuked by the
genius of the Advocate. The Prince had perhaps never forgiven him for the
political guardianship which he had exercised over him ever since the
death of William the Silent. He resented the leading strings by which his
youthful footstep had been sustained, and which he seemed always to feel
about his limbs so long as Barneveld existed. He had never forgotten the
unpalatable advice given to him by the Advocate through the
Princess-Dowager.

The brief campaign in Cleve and Julich was the last great political
operation in which the two were likely to act in even apparent harmony.
But the rivalry between the two had already pronounced itself
emphatically during the negotiations for the truce. The Advocate had felt
it absolutely necessary for the Republic to suspend the war at the first
moment when she could treat with her ancient sovereign on a footing of
equality. Spain, exhausted with the conflict, had at last consented to
what she considered the humiliation of treating with her rebellious
provinces as with free states over which she claimed no authority. The
peace party, led by Barneveld, had triumphed, notwithstanding the steady
opposition of Prince Maurice and his adherents.

Why had Maurice opposed the treaty? Because his vocation was over,
because he was the greatest captain of the age, because his emoluments,
his consideration, his dignity before the world, his personal power, were
all vastly greater in war than in his opinion they could possibly be in
peace. It was easy for him to persuade himself that what was manifestly
for his individual interest was likewise essential to the prosperity of
the country.

The diminution in his revenues consequent on the return to peace was made
good to him, his brother, and his cousin, by most munificent endowments
and pensions. And it was owing to the strenuous exertions of the Advocate
that these large sums were voted. A hollow friendship was kept up between
the two during the first few years of the truce, but resentment and
jealousy lay deep in Maurice's heart.

At about the period of the return of Aerssens from his French embassy,
the suppressed fire was ready to flame forth at the first fanning by that
artful hand. It was impossible, so Aerssens thought and whispered, that
two heads could remain on one body politic. There was no room in the
Netherlands for both the Advocate and the Prince. Barneveld was in all
civil affairs dictator, chief magistrate, supreme judge; but he occupied
this high station by the force of intellect, will, and experience, not
through any constitutional provision. In time of war the Prince was
generalissimo, commander-in-chief of all the armies of the Republic. Yet
constitutionally he was not captain-general at all. He was only
stadholder of five out of seven provinces.

Barneveld suspected him of still wishing to make himself sovereign of the
country. Perhaps his suspicions were incorrect. Yet there was every
reason why Maurice should be ambitious of that position. It would have
been in accordance with the openly expressed desire of Henry IV. and
other powerful allies of the Netherlands. His father's assassination had
alone prevented his elevation to the rank of sovereign Count of Holland.
The federal policy of the Provinces had drifted into a republican form
after their renunciation of their Spanish sovereign, not because the
people, or the States as representing the people, had deliberately chosen
a republican system, but because they could get no powerful monarch to
accept the sovereignty. They had offered to become subjects of Protestant
England and of Catholic France. Both powers had refused the offer, and
refused it with something like contumely. However deep the subsequent
regret on the part of both, there was no doubt of the fact. But the
internal policy in all the provinces, and in all the towns, was
republican. Local self-government existed everywhere. Each city
magistracy was a little republic in itself. The death of William the
Silent, before he had been invested with the sovereign power of all seven
provinces, again left that sovereignty in abeyance. Was the supreme power
of the Union, created at Utrecht in 1579, vested in the States-General?

They were beginning theoretically to claim it, but Barneveld denied the
existence of any such power either in law or fact. It was a league of
sovereignties, he maintained; a confederacy of seven independent states,
united for certain purposes by a treaty made some thirty years before.
Nothing could be more imbecile, judging by the light of subsequent events
and the experience of centuries, than such an organization. The
independent and sovereign republic of Zealand or of Groningen, for
example, would have made a poor figure campaigning, or negotiating, or
exhibiting itself on its own account before the world. Yet it was
difficult to show any charter, precedent, or prescription for the
sovereignty of the States-General. Necessary as such an incorporation was
for the very existence of the Union, no constitutional union had ever
been enacted. Practically the Province of Holland, representing more than
half the population, wealth, strength, and intellect of the whole
confederation, had achieved an irregular supremacy in the States-General.
But its undeniable superiority was now causing a rank growth of envy,
hatred, and jealousy throughout the country, and the great Advocate of
Holland, who was identified with the province, and had so long wielded
its power, was beginning to reap the full harvest of that malice.

Thus while there was so much of vagueness in theory and practice as to
the sovereignty, there was nothing criminal on the part of Maurice if he
was ambitious of obtaining the sovereignty himself. He was not seeking to
compass it by base artifice or by intrigue of any kind. It was very
natural that he should be restive under the dictatorship of the Advocate.
If a single burgher and lawyer could make himself despot of the
Netherlands, how much more reasonable that he--with the noblest blood of
Europe in his veins, whose direct ancestor three centuries before had
been emperor not only of those provinces, but of all Germany and half
Christendom besides, whose immortal father had under God been the creator
and saviour of the new commonwealth, had made sacrifices such as man
never made for a people, and had at last laid down his life in its
defence; who had himself fought daily from boyhood upwards in the great
cause, who had led national armies from victory to victory till he had
placed his country as a military school and a belligerent power foremost
among the nations, and had at last so exhausted and humbled the great
adversary and former tyrant that he had been glad of a truce while the
rebel chief would have preferred to continue the war--should aspire to
rule by hereditary right a land with which his name and his race were
indelibly associated by countless sacrifices and heroic achievements.

It was no crime in Maurice to desire the sovereignty. It was still less a
crime in Barneveld to believe that he desired it. There was no special
reason why the Prince should love the republican form of government
provided that an hereditary one could be legally substituted for it. He
had sworn allegiance to the statutes, customs, and privileges of each of
the provinces of which he had been elected stadholder, but there would
have been no treason on his part if the name and dignity of stadholder
should be changed by the States themselves for those of King or sovereign
Prince.

Yet it was a chief grievance against the Advocate on the part of the
Prince that Barneveld believed him capable of this ambition.

The Republic existed as a fact, but it had not long existed, nor had it
ever received a formal baptism. So undefined was its constitution, and so
conflicting were the various opinions in regard to it of eminent men,
that it would be difficult to say how high-treason could be committed
against it. Great lawyers of highest intellect and learning believed the
sovereign power to reside in the separate states, others found that
sovereignty in the city magistracies, while during a feverish period of
war and tumult the supreme function had without any written constitution,
any organic law, practically devolved upon the States-General, who had
now begun to claim it as a right. The Republic was neither venerable by
age nor impregnable in law. It was an improvised aristocracy of lawyers,
manufacturers, bankers, and corporations which had done immense work and
exhibited astonishing sagacity and courage, but which might never have
achieved the independence of the Provinces unaided by the sword of
Orange-Nassau and the magic spell which belonged to that name.

Thus a bitter conflict was rapidly developing itself in the heart of the
Commonwealth. There was the civil element struggling with the military
for predominance; sword against gown; states' rights against central
authority; peace against war; above all the rivalry of one prominent
personage against another, whose mutual hatred was now artfully inflamed
by partisans.

And now another element of discord had come, more potent than all the
rest: the terrible, never ending, struggle of Church against State.
Theological hatred which forty years long had found vent in the exchange
of acrimony between the ancient and the Reformed churches was now
assuming other shapes. Religion in that age and country was more than has
often been the case in history the atmosphere of men's daily lives. But
during the great war for independence, although the hostility between the
two religious forces was always intense, it was modified especially
towards the close of the struggle by other controlling influences. The
love of independence and the passion for nationality, the devotion to
ancient political privileges, was often as fervid and genuine in Catholic
bosoms as in those of Protestants, and sincere adherents of the ancient
church had fought to the death against Spain in defence of chartered
rights.

At that very moment it is probable that half the population of the United
Provinces was Catholic. Yet it would be ridiculous to deny that the
aggressive, uncompromising; self-sacrificing, intensely believing,
perfectly fearless spirit of Calvinism had been the animating soul, the
motive power of the great revolt. For the Provinces to have encountered
Spain and Rome without Calvinism, and relying upon municipal enthusiasm
only, would have been to throw away the sword and fight with the
scabbard.

But it is equally certain that those hot gospellers who had suffered so
much martyrdom and achieved so many miracles were fully aware of their
power and despotic in its exercise. Against the oligarchy of commercial
and juridical corporations they stood there the most terrible aristocracy
of all: the aristocracy of God's elect, predestined from all time and to
all eternity to take precedence of and to look down upon their inferior
and lost fellow creatures. It was inevitable that this aristocracy, which
had done so much, which had breathed into a new-born commonwealth the
breath of its life, should be intolerant, haughty, dogmatic.

The Church of Rome, which had been dethroned after inflicting such
exquisite tortures during its period of power, was not to raise its head.
Although so large a proportion of the inhabitants of the country were
secretly or openly attached to that faith, it was a penal offence to
participate openly in its rites and ceremonies. Religious equality,
except in the minds of a few individuals, was an unimaginable idea. There
was still one Church which arrogated to itself the sole possession of
truth, the Church of Geneva. Those who admitted the possibility of other
forms and creeds were either Atheists or, what was deemed worse than
Atheists, Papists, because Papists were assumed to be traitors also, and
desirous of selling the country to Spain. An undevout man in that land
and at that epoch was an almost unknown phenomenon. Religion was as much
a recognized necessity of existence as food or drink. It were as easy to
find people about without clothes as without religious convictions.

The Advocate, who had always adhered to the humble spirit of his
ancestral device, "Nil scire tutissima fedes," and almost alone among his
fellow citizens (save those immediate apostles and pupils of his who
became involved in his fate) in favour of religious toleration, began to
be suspected of treason and Papacy because, had he been able to give the
law, it was thought he would have permitted such horrors as the public
exercise of the Roman Catholic religion.

The hissings and screamings of the vulgar against him as he moved forward
on his stedfast course he heeded less than those of geese on a common.
But there was coming a time when this proud and scornful statesman,
conscious of the superiority conferred by great talents and unparalleled
experience, would find it less easy to treat the voice of slanderers,
whether idiots or powerful and intellectual enemies, with contempt.




CHAPTER VIII.

   Schism in the Church a Public Fact--Struggle for Power between the
   Sacerdotal and Political Orders--Dispute between Arminius and
   Gomarus--Rage of James I. at the Appointment of Voratius--Arminians
   called Remonstrants--Hague Conference--Contra-Remonstrance by
   Gomarites of Seven Points to the Remonstrants' Five--Fierce
   Theological Disputes throughout the Country--Ryswyk Secession--
   Maurice wishes to remain neutral, but finds himself the Chieftain of
   the Contra-Remonstrant Party--The States of Holland Remonstrant by a
   large Majority--The States-General Contra-Remonstrant--Sir Ralph
   Winwood leaves the Hague--Three Armies to take the Field against
   Protestantism.

Schism in the Church had become a public fact, and theological hatred was
in full blaze throughout the country.

The great practical question in the Church had been as to the appointment
of preachers, wardens, schoolmasters, and other officers. By the
ecclesiastical arrangements of 1591 great power was conceded to the civil
authority in church matters, especially in regard to such appointments,
which were made by a commission consisting of four members named by the
churches and four by the magistrates in each district.

Barneveld, who above all things desired peace in the Church, had wished
to revive this ordinance, and in 1612 it had been resolved by the States
of Holland that each city or village should, if the magistracy approved,
provisionally conform to it. The States of Utrecht made at the same time
a similar arrangement.

It was the controversy which has been going on since the beginning of
history and is likely to be prolonged to the end of time--the struggle
for power between the sacerdotal and political orders; the controversy
whether priests shall control the state or the state govern the priests.

This was the practical question involved in the fierce dispute as to
dogma. The famous duel between Arminius and Gomarus; the splendid
theological tournaments which succeeded; six champions on a side armed in
full theological panoply and swinging the sharpest curtal axes which
learning, passion, and acute intellect could devise, had as yet produced
no beneficent result. Nobody had been convinced by the shock of argument,
by the exchange of those desperate blows. The High Council of the Hague
had declared that no difference of opinion in the Church existed
sufficient to prevent fraternal harmony and happiness. But Gomarus loudly
declared that, if there were no means of putting down the heresy of
Arminius, there would before long be a struggle such as would set
province against province, village against village, family against
family, throughout the land. He should be afraid to die in such doctrine.
He shuddered that any one should dare to come before God's tribunal with
such blasphemies. Meantime his great adversary, the learned and eloquent,
the musical, frolicsome, hospitable heresiarch was no more. Worn out with
controversy, but peaceful and happy in the convictions which were so
bitterly denounced by Gomarus and a large proportion of both preachers
and laymen in the Netherlands, and convinced that the schism which in his
view had been created by those who called themselves the orthodox would
weaken the cause of Protestantism throughout Europe, Arminius died at the
age of forty-nine.

The magistrates throughout Holland, with the exception of a few cities,
were Arminian, the preachers Gomarian; for Arminius ascribed to the civil
authority the right to decide upon church matters, while Gomarus
maintained that ecclesiastical affairs should be regulated in
ecclesiastical assemblies. The overseers of Leyden University appointed
Conrad Vorstius to be professor of theology in place of Arminius. The
selection filled to the brim the cup of bitterness, for no man was more
audaciously latitudinarian than he. He was even suspected of Socinianism.
There came a shriek from King James, fierce and shrill enough to rouse
Arminius from his grave. James foamed to the mouth at the insolence of
the overseers in appointing such a monster of infidelity to the
professorship. He ordered his books to be publicly burned in St. Paul's
Churchyard and at both Universities, and would have burned the Professor
himself with as much delight as Torquemada or Peter Titelman ever felt in
roasting their victims, had not the day for such festivities gone by. He
ordered the States of Holland on pain of for ever forfeiting his
friendship to exclude Vorstius at once from the theological chair and to
forbid him from "nestling anywhere in the country."

He declared his amazement that they should tolerate such a pest as Conrad
Vorstius. Had they not had enough of the seed sown by that foe of God,
Arminius? He ordered the States-General to chase the blasphemous monster
from the land, or else he would cut off all connection with their false
and heretic churches and make the other Reformed churches of Europe do
the same, nor should the youth of England ever be allowed to frequent the
University of Leyden.

In point of fact the Professor was never allowed to qualify, to preach,
or to teach; so tremendous was the outcry of Peter Plancius and many
orthodox preachers, echoing the wrath of the King. He lived at Gouda in a
private capacity for several years, until the Synod of Dordrecht at last
publicly condemned his opinions and deprived him of his professorship.

Meantime, the preachers who were disciples of Arminius had in a private
assembly drawn up what was called a Remonstrance, addressed to the States
of Holland, and defending themselves from the reproach that they were
seeking change in the Divine service and desirous of creating tumult and
schism.

This Remonstrance, set forth by the pen of the famous Uytenbogaert, whom
Gomarus called the Court Trumpeter, because for a long time he had been
Prince Maurice's favourite preacher, was placed in the hands of
Barneveld, for delivery to the States of Holland. Thenceforth the
Arminians were called Remonstrants.

The Hague Conference followed, six preachers on a side, and the States of
Holland exhorted to fraternal compromise. Until further notice, they
decreed that no man should be required to believe more than had been laid
down in the Five Points:

I. God has from eternity resolved to choose to eternal life those who
through his grace believe in Jesus Christ, and in faith and obedience so
continue to the end, and to condemn the unbelieving and unconverted to
eternal damnation.

II. Jesus Christ died for all; so, nevertheless, that no one actually
except believers is redeemed by His death.

III. Man has not the saving belief from himself, nor out of his free
will, but he needs thereto God's grace in Christ.

IV. This grace is the beginning, continuation, and completion of man's
salvation; all good deeds must be ascribed to it, but it does not work
irresistibly.

V. God's grace gives sufficient strength to the true believers to
overcome evil; but whether they cannot lose grace should be more closely
examined before it should be taught in full security.

Afterwards they expressed themselves more distinctly on this point, and
declared that a true believer, through his own fault, can fall away from
God and lose faith.

Before the conference, however, the Gomarite preachers had drawn up a
Contra-Remonstrance of Seven Points in opposition to the Remonstrants'
five.

They demanded the holding of a National Synod to settle the difference
between these Five and Seven Points, or the sending of them to foreign
universities for arbitration, a mutual promise being given by the
contending parties to abide by the decision.

Thus much it has been necessary to state concerning what in the
seventeenth century was called the platform of the two great parties: a
term which has been perpetuated in our own country, and is familiar to
all the world in the nineteenth.

These were the Seven Points:

I. God has chosen from eternity certain persons out of the human race,
which in and with Adam fell into sin and has no more power to believe and
Convert itself than a dead man to restore himself to life, in order to
make them blessed through Christ; while He passes by the rest through His
righteous judgment, and leaves them lying in their sins.

II. Children of believing parents, as well as full-grown believers, are
to be considered as elect so long as they with action do not prove the
contrary.

III. God in His election has not looked at the belief and the repentance
of the elect; but, on the contrary, in His eternal and unchangeable
design, has resolved to give to the elect faith and stedfastness, and
thus to make them blessed.

IV. He, to this end, in the first place, presented to them His only
begotten Son, whose sufferings, although sufficient for the expiation of
all men's sins, nevertheless, according to God's decree, serves alone to
the reconciliation of the elect.

V. God causest he Gospel to be preached to them, making the same through
the Holy Ghost, of strength upon their minds; so that they not merely
obtain power to repent and to believe, but also actually and voluntarily
do repent and believe.

VI. Such elect, through the same power of the Holy Ghost through which
they have once become repentant and believing, are kept in such wise that
they indeed through weakness fall into heavy sins; but can never wholly
and for always lose the true faith.

VII. True believers from this, however, draw no reason for fleshly quiet,
it being impossible that they who through a true faith were planted in
Christ should bring forth no fruits of thankfulness; the promises of
God's help and the warnings of Scripture tending to make their salvation
work in them in fear and trembling, and to cause them more earnestly to
desire help from that spirit without which they can do nothing.

There shall be no more setting forth of these subtle and finely wrought
abstractions in our pages. We aspire not to the lofty heights of
theological and supernatural contemplation, where the atmosphere becomes
too rarefied for ordinary constitutions. Rather we attempt an objective
and level survey of remarkable phenomena manifesting themselves on the
earth; direct or secondary emanations from those distant spheres.

For in those days, and in that land especially, theology and politics
were one. It may be questioned at least whether this practical fusion of
elements, which may with more safety to the Commonwealth be kept
separate, did not tend quite as much to lower and contaminate the
religious sentiments as to elevate the political idea. To mix habitually
the solemn phraseology which men love to reserve for their highest and
most sacred needs with the familiar slang of politics and trade seems to
our generation not a very desirable proceeding.

The aroma of doubly distilled and highly sublimated dogma is more
difficult to catch than to comprehend the broader and more practical
distinctions of every-day party strife.

King James was furious at the thought that common men--the vulgar, the
people in short--should dare to discuss deep problems of divinity which,
as he confessed, had puzzled even his royal mind. Barneveld modestly
disclaimed the power of seeing with absolute clearness into things beyond
the reach of the human intellect. But the honest Netherlanders were not
abashed by thunder from the royal pulpit, nor perplexed by hesitations
which darkened the soul of the great Advocate.

In burghers' mansions, peasants' cottages, mechanics' back-parlours, on
board herring smacks, canal boats, and East Indiamen; in shops,
counting-rooms, farmyards, guard-rooms, ale-houses; on the exchange, in
the tennis-court, on the mall; at banquets, at burials, christenings, or
bridals; wherever and whenever human creatures met each other,
there was ever to be found the fierce wrangle of Remonstrant and
Contra-Remonstrant, the hissing of red-hot theological rhetoric, the
pelting of hostile texts. The blacksmith's iron cooled on the anvil, the
tinker dropped a kettle half mended, the broker left a bargain
unclinched, the Scheveningen fisherman in his wooden shoes forgot the
cracks in his pinkie, while each paused to hold high converse with friend
or foe on fate, free will, or absolute foreknowledge; losing himself in
wandering mazes whence there was no issue. Province against province,
city against city, family against family; it was one vast scene of
bickering, denunciation, heart-burnings, mutual excommunication and
hatred.

Alas! a generation of mankind before, men had stood banded together to
resist, with all the might that comes from union, the fell spirit of the
Holy Inquisition, which was dooming all who had wandered from the ancient
fold or resisted foreign tyranny to the axe, the faggot, the living
grave. There had been small leisure then for men who fought for
Fatherland, and for comparative liberty of conscience, to tear each
others' characters in pieces, and to indulge in mutual hatreds and
loathing on the question of predestination.

As a rule the population, especially of the humbler classes, and a great
majority of the preachers were Contra-Remonstrant; the magistrates, the
burgher patricians, were Remonstrant. In Holland the controlling
influence was Remonstrant; but Amsterdam and four or five other cities of
that province held to the opposite doctrine. These cities formed
therefore a small minority in the States Assembly of Holland sustained by
a large majority in the States-General. The Province of Utrecht was
almost unanimously Remonstrant. The five other provinces were decidedly
Contra-Remonstrant.

It is obvious therefore that the influence of Barneveld, hitherto so
all-controlling in the States-General, and which rested on the complete
submission of the States of Holland to his will, was tottering. The
battle-line between Church and State was now drawn up; and it was at the
same time a battle between the union and the principles of state
sovereignty.

It had long since been declared through the mouth of the Advocate, but in
a solemn state manifesto, that My Lords the States-General were the
foster-fathers and the natural protectors of the Church, to whom supreme
authority in church matters belonged.

The Contra-Remonstrants, on the other hand, maintained that all the
various churches made up one indivisible church, seated above the States,
whether Provincial or General, and governed by the Holy Ghost acting
directly upon the congregations.

As the schism grew deeper and the States-General receded from the
position which they had taken up under the lead of the Advocate, the
scene was changed. A majority of the Provinces being Contra-Remonstrant,
and therefore in favour of a National Synod, the States-General as a body
were of necessity for the Synod.

It was felt by the clergy that, if many churches existed, they would all
remain subject to the civil authority. The power of the priesthood would
thus sink before that of the burgher aristocracy. There must be one
church--the Church of Geneva and Heidelberg--if that theocracy which the
Gomarites meant to establish was not to vanish as a dream. It was founded
on Divine Right, and knew no chief magistrate but the Holy Ghost. A few
years before the States-General had agreed to a National Synod, but with
a condition that there should be revision of the Netherland Confession
and the Heidelberg Catechism.

Against this the orthodox infallibilists had protested and thundered,
because it was an admission that the vile Arminian heresy might perhaps
be declared correct. It was now however a matter of certainty that the
States-General would cease to oppose the unconditional Synod, because the
majority sided with the priesthood.

The magistrates of Leyden had not long before opposed the demand for a
Synod on the ground that the war against Spain was not undertaken to
maintain one sect; that men of various sects and creeds had fought with
equal valour against the common foe; that religious compulsion was
hateful, and that no synod had a right to claim Netherlanders as slaves.

To thoughtful politicians like Barneveld, Hugo Grotius, and men who acted
with them, fraught with danger to the state, that seemed a doctrine by
which mankind were not regarded as saved or doomed according to belief or
deeds, but as individuals divided from all eternity into two classes
which could never be united, but must ever mutually regard each other as
enemies.

And like enemies Netherlanders were indeed beginning to regard each
other. The man who, banded like brothers, had so heroically fought for
two generations long for liberty against an almost superhuman despotism,
now howling and jeering against each other like demons, seemed determined
to bring the very name of liberty into contempt.

Where the Remonstrants were in the ascendant, they excited the hatred and
disgust of the orthodox by their overbearing determination to carry their
Five Points. A broker in Rotterdam of the Contra-Remonstrant persuasion,
being about to take a wife, swore he had rather be married by a pig than
a parson. For this sparkling epigram he was punished by the Remonstrant
magistracy with loss of his citizenship for a year and the right to
practise his trade for life. A casuistical tinker, expressing himself
violently in the same city against the Five Points, and disrespectfully
towards the magistrates for tolerating them, was banished from the town.
A printer in the neighbourhood, disgusted with these and similar efforts
of tyranny on the part of the dominant party, thrust a couple of lines of
doggrel into the lottery:

  "In name of the Prince of Orange, I ask once and again,
   What difference between the Inquisition of Rotterdam and Spain?"

For this poetical effort the printer was sentenced to forfeit the prize
that he had drawn in the lottery, and to be kept in prison on bread and
water for a fortnight.

Certainly such punishments were hardly as severe as being beheaded or
burned or buried alive, as would have been the lot of tinkers and
printers and brokers who opposed the established church in the days of
Alva, but the demon of intolerance, although its fangs were drawn, still
survived, and had taken possession of both parties in the Reformed
Church. For it was the Remonstrants who had possession of the churches at
Rotterdam, and the printer's distich is valuable as pointing out that the
name of Orange was beginning to identify itself with the
Contra-Remonstrant faction. At this time, on the other hand, the gabble
that Barneveld had been bought by Spanish gold, and was about to sell his
country to Spain, became louder than a whisper. Men were not ashamed,
from theological hatred, to utter such senseless calumnies against a
venerable statesman whose long life had been devoted to the cause of his
country's independence and to the death struggle with Spain.

As if because a man admitted the possibility of all his fellow-creatures
being saved from damnation through repentance and the grace of God, he
must inevitably be a traitor to his country and a pensionary of her
deadliest foe.

And where the Contra-Remonstrants held possession of the churches and the
city governments, acts of tyranny which did not then seem ridiculous were
of everyday occurrence. Clergymen, suspected of the Five Points, were
driven out of the pulpits with bludgeons or assailed with brickbats at
the church door. At Amsterdam, Simon Goulart, for preaching the doctrine
of universal salvation and for disputing the eternal damnation of young
children, was forbidden thenceforth to preach at all.

But it was at the Hague that the schism in religion and politics first
fatally widened itself. Henry Rosaeus, an eloquent divine, disgusted with
his colleague Uytenbogaert, refused all communion with him, and was in
consequence suspended. Excluded from the Great Church, where he had
formerly ministered, he preached every Sunday at Ryswyk, two or three
miles distant. Seven hundred Contra-Remonstrants of the Hague followed
their beloved pastor, and, as the roads to Ryswyk were muddy and sloppy
in winter, acquired the unsavoury nickname of the "Mud Beggars." The
vulgarity of heart which suggested the appellation does not inspire
to-day great sympathy with the Remonstrant party, even if one were
inclined to admit, what is not the fact, that they represented the cause
of religious equality. For even the illustrious Grotius was at that very
moment repudiating the notion that there could be two religions in one
state. "Difference in public worship," he said, "was in kingdoms
pernicious, but in free commonwealths in the highest degree destructive."

It was the struggle between Church and State for supremacy over the whole
body politic. "The Reformation," said Grotius, "was not brought about by
synods, but by kings, princes, and magistrates." It was the same eternal
story, the same terrible two-edged weapon, "Cujus reggio ejus religio,"
found in the arsenal of the first Reformers, and in every
politico-religious arsenal of history.

"By an eternal decree of God," said Gomarus in accordance with Calvin,
"it has been fixed who are to be saved and who damned. By His decree some
are drawn to faith and godliness, and, being drawn, can never fall away.
God leaves all the rest in the general corruption of human nature and
their own misdeeds."

"God has from eternity made this distinction in the fallen human race,"
said Arminius, "that He pardons those who desist from their sins and put
their faith in Christ, and will give them eternal life, but will punish
those who remain impenitent. Moreover, it is pleasanter to God that all
men should repent, and, coming to knowledge of truth, remain therein, but
He compels none."

This was the vital difference of dogma. And it was because they could
hold no communion with those who believed in the efficacy of repentance
that Rosaeus and his followers had seceded to Ryswyk, and the Reformed
Church had been torn into two very unequal parts. But it is difficult to
believe that out of this arid field of controversy so plentiful a harvest
of hatred and civil convulsion could have ripened. More practical than
the insoluble problems, whether repentance could effect salvation, and
whether dead infants were hopelessly damned, was the question who should
rule both Church and State.

There could be but one church. On that Remonstrants and
Contra-Remonstrants were agreed. But should the five Points or the Seven
Points obtain the mastery? Should that framework of hammered iron, the
Confession and Catechism, be maintained in all its rigidity around the
sheepfold, or should the disciples of the arch-heretic Arminius, the
salvation-mongers, be permitted to prowl within it?

Was Barneveld, who hated the Reformed religion (so men told each other),
and who believed in nothing, to continue dictator of the whole Republic
through his influence over one province, prescribing its religious dogmas
and laying down its laws; or had not the time come for the States-General
to vindicate the rights of the Church, and to crush for ever the
pernicious principle of State sovereignty and burgher oligarchy?

The abyss was wide and deep, and the wild waves were raging more madly
every hour. The Advocate, anxious and troubled, but undismayed, did his
best in the terrible emergency. He conferred with Prince Maurice on the
subject of the Ryswyk secession, and men said that he sought to impress
upon him, as chief of the military forces, the necessity of putting down
religious schism with the armed hand.

The Prince had not yet taken a decided position. He was still under the
influence of John Uytenbogaert, who with Arminius and the Advocate made
up the fateful three from whom deadly disasters were deemed to have come
upon the Commonwealth. He wished to remain neutral. But no man can be
neutral in civil contentions threatening the life of the body politic any
more than the heart can be indifferent if the human frame is sawn in two.

"I am a soldier," said Maurice, "not a divine. These are matters of
theology which I don't understand, and about which I don't trouble
myself."

On another occasion he is reported to have said, "I know nothing of
predestination, whether it is green or whether it is blue; but I do know
that the Advocate's pipe and mine will never play the same tune."

It was not long before he fully comprehended the part which he must
necessarily play. To say that he was indifferent to religious matters was
as ridiculous as to make a like charge against Barneveld. Both were
religious men. It would have been almost impossible to find an
irreligious character in that country, certainly not among its
highest-placed and leading minds. Maurice had strong intellectual powers.
He was a regular attendant on divine worship, and was accustomed to hear
daily religious discussions. To avoid them indeed, he would have been
obliged not only to fly his country, but to leave Europe. He had a
profound reverence for the memory of his father, Calbo y Calbanista, as
William the Silent had called himself. But the great prince had died
before these fierce disputes had torn the bosom of the Reformed Church,
and while Reformers still were brethren. But if Maurice were a religious
man, he was also a keen politician; a less capable politician, however,
than a soldier, for he was confessedly the first captain of his age. He
was not rapid in his conceptions, but he was sure in the end to
comprehend his opportunity.

The Church, the people, the Union--the sacerdotal, the democratic, and
the national element--united under a name so potent to conjure with as
the name of Orange-Nassau, was stronger than any other possible
combination. Instinctively and logically therefore the Stadholder found
himself the chieftain of the Contra-Remonstrant party, and without the
necessity of an apostasy such as had been required of his great
contemporary to make himself master of France.

The power of Barneveld and his partisans was now put to a severe strain.
His efforts to bring back the Hague seceders were powerless. The
influence of Uytenbogaert over the Stadholder steadily diminished. He
prayed to be relieved from his post in the Great Church of the Hague,
especially objecting to serve with a Contra-Remonstrant preacher whom
Maurice wished to officiate there in place of the seceding Rosaeus. But
the Stadholder refused to let him go, fearing his influence in other
places. "There is stuff in him," said Maurice, "to outweigh half a dozen
Contra-Remonstrant preachers." Everywhere in Holland the opponents of the
Five Points refused to go to the churches, and set up tabernacles for
themselves in barns, outhouses, canal-boats. And the authorities in town
and village nailed up the barn-doors, and dispersed the canal boat
congregations, while the populace pelted them with stones. The seceders
appealed to the Stadholder, pleading that at least they ought to be
allowed to hear the word of God as they understood it without being
forced into churches where they were obliged to hear Arminian blasphemy.
At least their barns might be left them. "Barns," said Maurice, "barns
and outhouses! Are we to preach in barns? The churches belong to us, and
we mean to have them too."

Not long afterwards the Stadholder, clapping his hand on his sword hilt,
observed that these differences could only be settled by force of arms.
An ominous remark and a dreary comment on the forty years' war against
the Inquisition.

And the same scenes that were enacting in Holland were going on in
Overyssel and Friesland and Groningen; but with a difference. Here it was
the Five Points men who were driven into secession, whose barns were
nailed up, and whose preachers were mobbed. A lugubrious spectacle, but
less painful certainly than the hangings and drownings and burnings alive
in the previous century to prevent secession from the indivisible church.

It is certain that stadholders and all other magistrates ever since the
establishment of independence were sworn to maintain the Reformed
religion and to prevent a public divine worship under any other form. It
is equally certain that by the 13th Article of the Act of Union--the
organic law of the confederation made at Utrecht in 1579--each province
reserved for itself full control of religious questions. It would indeed
seem almost unimaginable in a country where not only every province, but
every city, every municipal board, was so jealous of its local privileges
and traditional rights that the absolute disposition over the highest,
gravest, and most difficult questions that can inspire and perplex
humanity should be left to a general government, and one moreover which
had scarcely come into existence.

Yet into this entirely illogical position the Commonwealth was steadily
drifting. The cause was simple enough. The States of Holland, as already
observed, were Remonstrant by a large majority. The States-General were
Contra-Remonstrant by a still greater majority. The Church, rigidly
attached to the Confession and Catechism, and refusing all change except
through decree of a synod to be called by the general government which it
controlled, represented the national idea. It thus identified itself with
the Republic, and was in sympathy with a large majority of the
population.

Logic, law, historical tradition were on the side of the Advocate and the
States' right party. The instinct of national self-preservation,
repudiating the narrow and destructive doctrine of provincial
sovereignty, were on the side of the States-General and the Church.

Meantime James of Great Britain had written letters both to the States of
Holland and the States-General expressing his satisfaction with the Five
Points, and deciding that there was nothing objectionable in the doctrine
of predestination therein set forth. He had recommended unity and peace
in Church and Assembly, and urged especially that these controverted
points should not be discussed in the pulpit to the irritation and
perplexity of the common people.

The King's letters had produced much satisfaction in the moderate party.
Barneveld and his followers were then still in the ascendant, and it
seemed possible that the Commonwealth might enjoy a few moments of
tranquillity. That James had given a new exhibition of his astounding
inconsistency was a matter very indifferent to all but himself, and he
was the last man to trouble himself for that reproach.

It might happen, when he should come to realize how absolutely he had
obeyed the tuition of the Advocate and favoured the party which he had
been so vehemently opposing, that he might regret and prove willing to
retract. But for the time being the course of politics had seemed running
smoother. The acrimony of the relations between the English government
and dominant party at the Hague was sensibly diminished. The King seemed
for an instant to have obtained a true insight into the nature of the
struggle in the States. That it was after all less a theological than a
political question which divided parties had at last dawned upon him.

"If you have occasion to write on the subject," said Barneveld, "it is
above all necessary to make it clear that ecclesiastical persons and
their affairs must stand under the direction of the sovereign authority,
for our preachers understand that the disposal of ecclesiastical persons
and affairs belongs to them, so that they alone are to appoint preachers,
elders, deacons, and other clerical persons, and to regulate the whole
ecclesiastical administration according to their pleasure or by a popular
government which they call the community."

"The Counts of Holland from all ancient times were never willing under
the Papacy to surrender their right of presentation to the churches and
control of all spiritual and ecclesiastical benefices. The Emperor
Charles and King Philip even, as Counts of Holland, kept these rights to
themselves, save that they in enfeoffing more than a hundred gentlemen,
of noble and ancient families with seigniorial manors, enfeoffed them
also with the right of presentation to churches and benefices on their
respective estates. Our preachers pretend to have won this right against
the Countship, the gentlemen, nobles, and others, and that it belongs to
them."

It is easy to see that this was a grave, constitutional, legal, and
historical problem not to be solved offhand by vehement citations from
Scripture, nor by pragmatical dissertations from the lips of foreign
ambassadors.

"I believe this point," continued Barneveld, "to be the most difficult
question of all, importing far more than subtle searchings and
conflicting sentiments as to passages of Holy Writ, or disputations
concerning God's eternal predestination and other points thereupon
depending. Of these doctrines the Archbishop of Canterbury well observed
in the Conference of 1604 that one ought to teach them ascendendo and not
descendendo."

The letters of the King had been very favourably received both in the
States-General and in the Assembly of Holland. "You will present the
replies," wrote Barneveld to the ambassador in London, "at the best
opportunity and with becoming compliments. You may be assured and assure
his Majesty that they have been very agreeable to both assemblies. Our
commissioners over there on the East Indian matter ought to know nothing
of these letters."

This statement is worthy of notice, as Grotius was one of those
commissioners, and, as will subsequently appear, was accused of being the
author of the letters.

"I understand from others," continued the Advocate, "that the gentleman
well known to you--[Obviously Francis Aerssens]--is not well pleased that
through other agency than his these letters have been written and
presented. I think too that the other business is much against his grain,
but on the whole since your departure he has accommodated himself to the
situation."

But if Aerssens for the moment seemed quiet, the orthodox clergy were
restive.

"I know," said Barneveld, "that some of our ministers are so audacious
that of themselves, or through others, they mean to work by direct or
indirect means against these letters. They mean to show likewise that
there are other and greater differences of doctrine than those already
discussed. You will keep a sharp eye on the sails and provide against the
effect of counter-currents. To maintain the authority of their Great
Mightinesses over ecclesiastical matters is more than necessary for the
conservation of the country's welfare and of the true Christian religion.
As his Majesty would not allow this principle to be controverted in his
own realms, as his books clearly prove, so we trust that he will not find
it good that it should be controverted in our state as sure to lead to a
very disastrous and inequitable sequel."

And a few weeks later the Advocate and the whole party of toleration
found themselves, as is so apt to be the case, between two fires. The
Catholics became as turbulent as the extreme Calvinists, and already
hopes were entertained by Spanish emissaries and spies that this rapidly
growing schism in the Reformed Church might be dexterously made use of to
bring the Provinces, when they should become fairly distracted, back to
the dominion of Spain.

"Our precise zealots in the Reformed religion, on the one side," wrote
Barneveld, "and the Jesuits on the other, are vigorously kindling the
fire of discord. Keep a good lookout for the countermine which is now
working against the good advice of his Majesty for mutual toleration. The
publication of the letters was done without order, but I believe with
good intent, in the hope that the vehemence and exorbitance of some
precise Puritans in our State should thereby be checked. That which is
now doing against us in printed libels is the work of the aforesaid
Puritans and a few Jesuits. The pretence in those libels, that there are
other differences in the matter of doctrine, is mere fiction designed to
make trouble and confusion."

In the course of the autumn, Sir Ralph Winwood departed from the Hague,
to assume soon afterwards in England the position of secretary of state
for foreign affairs. He did not take personal farewell of Barneveld, the
Advocate being absent in North Holland at the moment, and detained there
by indisposition. The leave-taking was therefore by letter. He had done
much to injure the cause which the Dutch statesman held vital to the
Republic, and in so doing he had faithfully carried out the instructions
of his master. Now that James had written these conciliatory letters to
the States, recommending toleration, letters destined to be famous,
Barneveld was anxious that the retiring ambassador should foster the
spirit of moderation, which for a moment prevailed at the British court.
But he was not very hopeful in the matter.

"Mr. Winwood is doubtless over there now," he wrote to Caron. "He has
promised in public and private to do all good offices. The States-General
made him a present on his departure of the value of L4000. I fear
nevertheless that he, especially in religious matters, will not do the
best offices. For besides that he is himself very hard and precise, those
who in this country are hard and precise have made a dead set at him, and
tried to make him devoted to their cause, through many fictitious and
untruthful means."

The Advocate, as so often before, sent assurances to the King that "the
States-General, and especially the States of Holland, were resolved to
maintain the genuine Reformed religion, and oppose all novelties and
impurities conflicting with it," and the Ambassador was instructed to see
that the countermine, worked so industriously against his Majesty's
service and the honour and reputation of the Provinces, did not prove
successful.

"To let the good mob play the master," he said, "and to permit hypocrites
and traitors in the Flemish manner to get possession of the government of
the provinces and cities, and to cause upright patriots whose faith and
truth has so long been proved, to be abandoned, by the blessing of God,
shall never be accomplished. Be of good heart, and cause these Flemish
tricks to be understood on every occasion, and let men know that we mean
to maintain, with unchanging constancy, the authority of the government,
the privileges and laws of the country, as well as the true Reformed
religion."

The statesman was more than ever anxious for moderate counsels in the
religious questions, for it was now more important than ever that there
should be concord in the Provinces, for the cause of Protestantism, and
with it the existence of the Republic, seemed in greater danger than at
any moment since the truce. It appeared certain that the alliance between
France and Spain had been arranged, and that the Pope, Spain, the
Grand-duke of Tuscany, and their various adherents had organized a strong
combination, and were enrolling large armies to take the field in the
spring, against the Protestant League of the princes and electors in
Germany. The great king was dead. The Queen-Regent was in the hand of
Spain, or dreamed at least of an impossible neutrality, while the priest
who was one day to resume the part of Henry, and to hang upon the sword
of France the scales in which the opposing weights of Protestantism and
Catholicism in Europe were through so many awful years to be balanced,
was still an obscure bishop.

The premonitory signs of the great religious war in Germany were not to
be mistaken. In truth, the great conflict had already opened in the
duchies, although few men as yet comprehended the full extent of that
movement. The superficial imagined that questions of hereditary
succession, like those involved in the dispute, were easily to be settled
by statutes of descent, expounded by doctors of law, and sustained, if
needful, by a couple of comparatively bloodless campaigns. Those who
looked more deeply into causes felt that the limitations of Imperial
authority, the ambition of a great republic, suddenly starting into
existence out of nothing, and the great issues of the religious
reformation, were matters not so easily arranged. When the scene shifted,
as it was so soon to do, to the heart of Bohemia, when Protestantism had
taken the Holy Roman Empire by the beard in its ancient palace, and
thrown Imperial stadholders out of window, it would be evident to the
blindest that something serious was taking place.

Meantime Barneveld, ever watchful of passing events, knew that great
forces of Catholicism were marshalling in the south. Three armies were to
take the field against Protestantism at the orders of Spain and the Pope.
One at the door of the Republic, and directed especially against the
Netherlands, was to resume the campaign in the duchies, and to prevent
any aid going to Protestant Germany from Great Britain or from Holland.
Another in the Upper Palatinate was to make the chief movement against
the Evangelical hosts. A third in Austria was to keep down the Protestant
party in Bohemia, Hungary, Austria, Moravia, and Silesia. To sustain this
movement, it was understood that all the troops then in Italy were to be
kept all the winter on a war footing.'

Was this a time for the great Protestant party in the Netherlands to tear
itself in pieces for a theological subtlety, about which good Christians
might differ without taking each other by the throat?

"I do not lightly believe or fear," said the Advocate, in communicating a
survey of European affairs at that moment to Carom "but present advices
from abroad make me apprehend dangers."

     ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

     Aristocracy of God's elect
     Determined to bring the very name of liberty into contempt
     Disputing the eternal damnation of young children
     Fate, free will, or absolute foreknowledge
     Louis XIII.
     No man can be neutral in civil contentions
     No synod had a right to claim Netherlanders as slaves
     Philip IV.
     Priests shall control the state or the state govern the priests
     Schism in the Church had become a public fact
     That cynical commerce in human lives
     The voice of slanderers
     Theological hatred was in full blaze throughout the country
     Theology and politics were one
     To look down upon their inferior and lost fellow creatures
     Whether dead infants were hopelessly damned
     Whether repentance could effect salvation
     Whose mutual hatred was now artfully inflamed by partisans
     Work of the aforesaid Puritans and a few Jesuits




THE LIFE AND DEATH of JOHN OF BARNEVELD, ADVOCATE OF HOLLAND

WITH A VIEW OF THE PRIMARY CAUSES AND MOVEMENTS OF THE THIRTY YEARS' WAR

By John Lothrop Motley, D.C.L., LL.D.

Life of John of Barneveld, 1613-15




CHAPTER IX.

   Aerssens remains Two Years longer in France--Derives many Personal
   Advantages from his Post--He visits the States-General--Aubery du
   Maurier appointed French Ambassador--He demands the Recall of
   Aerssens--Peace of Sainte-Menehould--Asperen de Langerac appointed
   in Aerssens' Place.

Francis Aerssens had remained longer at his post than had been intended
by the resolution of the States of Holland, passed in May 1611.

It is an exemplification of the very loose constitutional framework of
the United Provinces that the nomination of the ambassador to France
belonged to the States of Holland, by whom his salary was paid, although,
of course, he was the servant of the States-General, to whom his public
and official correspondence was addressed. His most important despatches
were however written directly to Barneveld so long as he remained in
power, who had also the charge of the whole correspondence, public or
private, with all the envoys of the States.

Aerssens had, it will be remembered, been authorized to stay one year
longer in France if he thought he could be useful there. He stayed two
years, and on the whole was not useful. He had too many eyes and too many
ears. He had become mischievous by the very activity of his intelligence.
He was too zealous. There were occasions in France at that moment in
which it was as well to be blind and deaf. It was impossible for the
Republic, unless driven to it by dire necessity, to quarrel with its
great ally. It had been calculated by Duplessis-Mornay that France had
paid subsidies to the Provinces amounting from first to last to 200
millions of livres. This was an enormous exaggeration. It was Barneveld's
estimate that before the truce the States had received from France eleven
millions of florins in cash, and during the truce up to the year 1613,
3,600,000 in addition, besides a million still due, making a total of
about fifteen millions. During the truce France kept two regiments of
foot amounting to 4200 soldiers and two companies of cavalry in Holland
at the service of the States, for which she was bound to pay yearly
600,000 livres. And the Queen-Regent had continued all the treaties by
which these arrangements were secured, and professed sincere and
continuous friendship for the States. While the French-Spanish marriages
gave cause for suspicion, uneasiness, and constant watchfulness in the
States, still the neutrality of France was possible in the coming storm.
So long as that existed, particularly when the relations of England with
Holland through the unfortunate character of King James were perpetually
strained to a point of imminent rupture, it was necessary to hold as long
as it was possible to the slippery embrace of France.

But Aerssens was almost aggressive in his attitude. He rebuked the
vacillations, the shortcomings, the imbecility, of the Queen's government
in offensive terms. He consorted openly with the princes who were on the
point of making war upon the Queen-Regent. He made a boast to the
Secretary of State Villeroy that he had unravelled all his secret plots
against the Netherlands. He declared it to be understood in France, since
the King's death, by the dominant and Jesuitical party that the crown
depended temporally as well as spiritually on the good pleasure of the
Pope.

No doubt he was perfectly right in many of his opinions. No ruler or
statesman in France worthy of the name would hesitate, in the impending
religious conflict throughout Europe and especially in Germany, to
maintain for the kingdom that all controlling position which was its
splendid privilege. But to preach this to Mary de' Medici was waste of
breath. She was governed by the Concini's, and the Concini's were
governed by Spain. The woman who was believed to have known beforehand of
the plot to murder her great husband, who had driven the one powerful
statesman on whom the King relied, Maximilian de Bethune, into
retirement, and whose foreign affairs were now completely in the hands of
the ancient Leaguer Villeroy--who had served every government in the
kingdom for forty years--was not likely to be accessible to high views of
public policy.

Two years had now elapsed since the first private complaints against the
Ambassador, and the French government were becoming impatient at his
presence. Aerssens had been supported by Prince Maurice, to whom he had
long paid his court. He was likewise loyally protected by Barneveld, whom
he publicly flattered and secretly maligned. But it was now necessary
that he should be gone if peaceful relations with France were to be
preserved.

After all, the Ambassador had not made a bad business of his embassy from
his own point of view. A stranger in the Republic, for his father the
Greffier was a refugee from Brabant, he had achieved through his own
industry and remarkable talents, sustained by the favour of Barneveld--to
whom he owed all his diplomatic appointments--an eminent position in
Europe. Secretary to the legation to France in 1594, he had been
successively advanced to the post of resident agent, and when the
Republic had been acknowledged by the great powers, to that of
ambassador. The highest possible functions that representatives of
emperors and kings could enjoy had been formally recognized in the person
of the minister of a new-born republic. And this was at a moment when,
with exception of the brave but insignificant cantons of Switzerland, the
Republic had long been an obsolete idea.

In a pecuniary point of view, too, he had not fared badly during his
twenty years of diplomatic office. He had made much money in various
ways. The King not long before his death sent him one day 20,000 florins
as a present, with a promise soon to do much more for him.

Having been placed in so eminent a post, he considered it as due to
himself to derive all possible advantage from it. "Those who serve at the
altar," he said a little while after his return, "must learn to live by
it. I served their High Mightinesses at the court of a great king, and
his Majesty's liberal and gracious favours were showered upon me. My
upright conscience and steady obsequiousness greatly aided me. I did not
look upon opportunity with folded arms, but seized it and made my profit
by it. Had I not met with such fortunate accidents, my office would not
have given me dry bread."

Nothing could exceed the frankness and indeed the cynicism with which the
Ambassador avowed his practice of converting his high and sacred office
into merchandise. And these statements of his should be scanned closely,
because at this very moment a cry was distantly rising, which at a later
day was to swell into a roar, that the great Advocate had been bribed and
pensioned. Nothing had occurred to justify such charges, save that at the
period of the truce he had accepted from the King of France a fee of
20,000 florins for extra official and legal services rendered him a dozen
years before, and had permitted his younger son to hold the office of
gentleman-in-waiting at the French court with the usual salary attached
to it. The post, certainly not dishonourable in itself, had been intended
by the King as a kindly compliment to the leading statesman of his great
and good ally the Republic. It would be difficult to say why such a
favour conferred on the young man should be held more discreditable to
the receiver than the Order of the Garter recently bestowed upon the
great soldier of the Republic by another friendly sovereign. It is
instructive however to note the language in which Francis Aerssens spoke
of favours and money bestowed by a foreign monarch upon himself, for
Aerssens had come back from his embassy full of gall and bitterness
against Barneveld. Thenceforth he was to be his evil demon.

"I didn't inherit property," said this diplomatist. "My father and
mother, thank God, are yet living. I have enjoyed the King's liberality.
It was from an ally, not an enemy, of our country. Were every man obliged
to give a reckoning of everything he possesses over and above his
hereditary estates, who in the government would pass muster? Those who
declare that they have served their country in her greatest trouble, and
lived in splendid houses and in service of princes and great companies
and the like on a yearly salary of 4000 florins, may not approve these
maxims."

It should be remembered that Barneveld, if this was a fling at the
Advocate, had acquired a large fortune by marriage, and, although
certainly not averse from gathering gear, had, as will be seen on a
subsequent page, easily explained the manner in which his property had
increased. No proof was ever offered or attempted of the anonymous
calumnies levelled at him in this regard.

"I never had the management of finances," continued Aerssens. "My profits
I have gained in foreign parts. My condition of life is without excess,
and in my opinion every means are good so long as they are honourable and
legal. They say my post was given me by the Advocate. Ergo, all my
fortune comes from the Advocate. Strenuously to have striven to make
myself agreeable to the King and his counsellors, while fulfilling my
office with fidelity and honour, these are the arts by which I have
prospered, so that my splendour dazzles the eyes of the envious. The
greediness of those who believe that the sun should shine for them alone
was excited, and so I was obliged to resign the embassy."

So long as Henry lived, the Dutch ambassador saw him daily, and at all
hours, privately, publicly, when he would. Rarely has a foreign envoy at
any court, at any period of history, enjoyed such privileges of being
useful to his government. And there is no doubt that the services of
Aerssens had been most valuable to his country, notwithstanding his
constant care to increase his private fortune through his public
opportunities. He was always ready to be useful to Henry likewise. When
that monarch same time before the truce, and occasionally during the
preliminary negotiations for it, had formed a design to make himself
sovereign of the Provinces, it was Aerssens who charged himself with the
scheme, and would have furthered it with all his might, had the project
not met with opposition both from the Advocate and the Stadholder.
Subsequently it appeared probable that Maurice would not object to the
sovereignty himself, and the Ambassador in Paris, with the King's
consent, was not likely to prove himself hostile to the Prince's
ambition.

"There is but this means alone," wrote Jeannini to Villeroy, "that can
content him, although hitherto he has done like the rowers, who never
look toward the place whither they wish to go." The attempt of the Prince
to sound Barneveld on this subject through the Princess-Dowager has
already been mentioned, and has much intrinsic probability.
Thenceforward, the republican form of government, the municipal
oligarchies, began to consolidate their power. Yet although the people as
such were not sovereigns, but subjects, and rarely spoken of by the
aristocratic magistrates save with a gentle and patronizing disdain, they
enjoyed a larger liberty than was known anywhere else in the world.
Buzenval was astonished at the "infinite and almost unbridled freedom"
which he witnessed there during his embassy, and which seemed to him
however "without peril to the state."

The extraordinary means possessed by Aerssens to be important and useful
vanished with the King's death. His secret despatches, painting in sombre
and sarcastic colours the actual condition of affairs at the French
court, were sent back in copy to the French court itself. It was not
known who had played the Ambassador this vilest of tricks, but it was
done during an illness of Barneveld, and without his knowledge. Early in
the year 1613 Aerssens resolved, not to take his final departure, but to
go home on leave of absence. His private intention was to look for some
substantial office of honour and profit at home. Failing of this, he
meant to return to Paris. But with an eye to the main chance as usual, he
ingeniously caused it to be understood at court, without making positive
statements to that effect, that his departure was final. On his
leavetaking, accordingly, he received larger presents from the crown than
had been often given to a retiring ambassador. At least 20,000 florins
were thus added to the frugal store of profits on which he prided
himself. Had he merely gone away on leave of absence, he would have
received no presents whatever. But he never went back. The Queen-Regent
and her ministers were so glad to get rid of him, and so little disposed,
in the straits in which they found themselves, to quarrel with the
powerful republic, as to be willing to write very complimentary public
letters to the States, concerning the character and conduct of the man
whom they so much detested.

Pluming himself upon these, Aerssens made his appearance in the Assembly
of the States-General, to give account by word of mouth of the condition
of affairs, speaking as if he had only come by permission of their
Mightinesses for temporary purposes. Two months later he was summoned
before the Assembly, and ordered to return to his post.

Meantime a new French ambassador had arrived at the Hague, in the spring
of 1613. Aubery du Maurier, a son of an obscure country squire, a
Protestant, of moderate opinions, of a sincere but rather obsequious
character, painstaking, diligent, and honest, had been at an earlier day
in the service of the turbulent and intriguing Due de Bouillon. He had
also been employed by Sully as an agent in financial affairs between
Holland and France, and had long been known to Villeroy. He was living on
his estate, in great retirement from all public business, when Secretary
Villeroy suddenly proposed him the embassy to the Hague. There was no
more important diplomatic post at that time in Europe. Other countries
were virtually at peace, but in Holland, notwithstanding the truce, there
was really not much more than an armistice, and great armies lay in the
Netherlands, as after a battle, sleeping face to face with arms in their
hands. The politics of Christendom were at issue in the open, elegant,
and picturesque village which was the social capital of the United
Provinces. The gentry from Spain, Italy, the south of Europe, Catholic
Germany, had clustered about Spinola at Brussels, to learn the art of war
in his constant campaigning against Maurice. English and Scotch officers,
Frenchmen, Bohemians, Austrians, youths from the Palatinate and all
Protestant countries in Germany, swarmed to the banners of the prince who
had taught the world how Alexander Farnese could be baffled, and the
great Spinola outmanoeuvred. Especially there was a great number of
Frenchmen of figure and quality who thronged to the Hague, besides the
officers of the two French regiments which formed a regular portion of
the States' army. That army was the best appointed and most conspicuous
standing force in Europe. Besides the French contingent there were always
nearly 30,000 infantry and 3000 cavalry on a war footing, splendidly
disciplined, experienced, and admirably armed. The navy, consisting of
thirty war ships, perfectly equipped and manned, was a match for the
combined marine forces of all Europe, and almost as numerous.

When the Ambassador went to solemn audience of the States-General, he was
attended by a brilliant group of gentlemen and officers, often to the
number of three hundred, who volunteered to march after him on foot to
honour their sovereign in the person of his ambassador; the Envoy's
carriage following empty behind. Such were the splendid diplomatic
processions often received by the stately Advocate in his plain civic
garb, when grave international questions were to be publicly discussed.

There was much murmuring in France when the appointment of a personage
comparatively so humble to a position so important was known. It was
considered as a blow aimed directly at the malcontent princes of the
blood, who were at that moment plotting their first levy of arms against
the Queen. Du Maurier had been ill-treated by the Due de Bouillon, who
naturally therefore now denounced the man whom he had injured to the
government to which he was accredited. Being the agent of Mary de'
Medici, he was, of course, described as a tool of the court and a secret
pensioner of Spain. He was to plot with the arch traitor Barneveld as to
the best means for distracting the Provinces and bringing them back into
Spanish subjection. Du Maurier, being especially but secretly charged to
prevent the return of Francis Aerssens to Paris, incurred of course the
enmity of that personage and of the French grandees who ostentatiously
protected him. It was even pretended by Jeannin that the appointment of a
man so slightly known to the world, so inexperienced in diplomacy, and of
a parentage so little distinguished, would be considered an affront by
the States-General.

But on the whole, Villeroy had made an excellent choice. No safer man
could perhaps have been found in France for a post of such eminence, in
circumstances so delicate, and at a crisis so grave. The man who had been
able to make himself agreeable and useful, while preserving his
integrity, to characters so dissimilar as the refining, self-torturing,
intellectual Duplessis-Mornay, the rude, aggressive, and straightforward
Sully, the deep-revolving, restlessly plotting Bouillon, and the smooth,
silent, and tortuous Villeroy--men between whom there was no friendship,
but, on the contrary, constant rancour--had material in him to render
valuable services at this particular epoch. Everything depended on
patience, tact, watchfulness in threading the distracting, almost
inextricable, maze which had been created by personal rivalries,
ambitions, and jealousies in the state he represented and the one to
which he was accredited. "I ascribe it all to God," he said, in his
testament to his children, "the impenetrable workman who in His goodness
has enabled me to make myself all my life obsequious, respectful, and
serviceable to all, avoiding as much as possible, in contenting some, not
to discontent others." He recommended his children accordingly to
endeavour "to succeed in life by making themselves as humble,
intelligent, and capable as possible."

This is certainly not a very high type of character, but a safer one for
business than that of the arch intriguer Francis Aerssens. And he had
arrived at the Hague under trying circumstances. Unknown to the foreign
world he was now entering, save through the disparaging rumours
concerning him, sent thither in advance by the powerful personages
arrayed against his government, he might have sunk under such a storm at
the outset, but for the incomparable kindness and friendly aid of the
Princess-Dowager, Louise de Coligny. "I had need of her protection and
recommendation as much as of life," said du Maurier; "and she gave them
in such excess as to annihilate an infinity of calumnies which envy had
excited against me on every side." He had also a most difficult and
delicate matter to arrange at the very moment of his arrival.

For Aerssens had done his best not only to produce a dangerous division
in the politics of the Republic, but to force a rupture between the
French government and the States. He had carried matters before the
assembly with so high a hand as to make it seem impossible to get rid of
him without public scandal. He made a parade of the official letters from
the Queen-Regent and her ministers, in which he was spoken of in terms of
conventional compliment. He did not know, and Barneveld wished, if
possible, to spare him the annoyance of knowing, that both Queen and
ministers, so soon as informed that there was a chance of coming back to
them, had written letters breathing great repugnance to him and
intimating that he would not be received. Other high personages of state
had written to express their resentment at his duplicity, perpetual
mischief-making, and machinations against the peace of the kingdom, and
stating the impossibility of his resuming the embassy at Paris. And at
last the queen wrote to the States-General to say that, having heard
their intention to send him back to a post "from which he had taken leave
formally and officially," she wished to prevent such a step. "We should
see M. Aerssens less willingly than comports with our friendship for you
and good neighbourhood. Any other you could send would be most welcome,
as M. du Maurier will explain to you more amply."

And to du Maurier himself she wrote distinctly, "Rather than suffer the
return of the said Aerssens, you will declare that for causes which
regard the good of our affairs and our particular satisfaction we cannot
and will not receive him in the functions which he has exercised here,
and we rely too implicitly upon the good friendship of My Lords the
States to do anything in this that would so much displease us."

And on the same day Villeroy privately wrote to the Ambassador, "If, in
spite of all this, Aerssens should endeavour to return, he will not be
received, after the knowledge we have of his factious spirit, most
dangerous in a public personage in a state such as ours and in the
minority of the King."

Meantime Aerssens had been going about flaunting letters in everybody's
face from the Duc de Bouillon insisting on the necessity of his return!
The fact in itself would have been sufficient to warrant his removal, for
the Duke was just taking up arms against his sovereign. Unless the States
meant to interfere officially and directly in the civil war about to
break out in France, they could hardly send a minister to the government
on recommendation of the leader of the rebellion.

It had, however, become impossible to remove him without an explosion.
Barneveld, who, said du Maurier, "knew the man to his finger nails," had
been reluctant to "break the ice," and wished for official notice in the
matter from the Queen. Maurice protected the troublesome diplomatist.
"'Tis incredible," said the French ambassador "how covertly Prince
Maurice is carrying himself, contrary to his wont, in this whole affair.
I don't know whether it is from simple jealousy to Barneveld, or if there
is some mystery concealed below the surface."

Du Maurier had accordingly been obliged to ask his government for
distinct and official instructions. "He holds to his place," said he, "by
so slight and fragile a root as not to require two hands to pluck him up,
the little finger being enough. There is no doubt that he has been in
concert with those who are making use of him to re-establish their credit
with the States, and to embark Prince Maurice contrary to his preceding
custom in a cabal with them."

Thus a question of removing an obnoxious diplomatist could hardly be
graver, for it was believed that he was doing his best to involve the
military chief of his own state in a game of treason and rebellion
against the government to which he was accredited. It was not the first
nor likely to be the last of Bouillon's deadly intrigues. But the man who
had been privy to Biron's conspiracy against the crown and life of his
sovereign was hardly a safe ally for his brother-in-law, the
straightforward stadholder.

The instructions desired by du Maurier and by Barneveld had, as we have
seen, at last arrived. The French ambassador thus fortified appeared
before the Assembly of the States-General and officially demanded the
recall of Aerssens. In a letter addressed privately and confidentially to
their Mightinesses, he said, "If in spite of us you throw him at our
feet, we shall fling him back at your head."

At last Maurice yielded to, the representations of the French envoy, and
Aerssens felt obliged to resign his claims to the post. The
States-General passed a resolution that it would be proper to employ him
in some other capacity in order to show that his services had been
agreeable to them, he having now declared that he could no longer be
useful in France. Maurice, seeing that it was impossible to save him,
admitted to du Maurier his unsteadiness and duplicity, and said that, if
possessed of the confidence of a great king, he would be capable of
destroying the state in less than a year.

But this had not always been the Prince's opinion, nor was it likely to
remain unchanged. As for Villeroy, he denied flatly that the cause of his
displeasure had been that Aerssens had penetrated into his most secret
affairs. He protested, on the contrary, that his annoyance with him had
partly proceeded from the slight acquaintance he had acquired of his
policy, and that, while boasting to be better informed than any one, he
was in the habit of inventing and imagining things in order to get credit
for himself.

It was highly essential that the secret of this affair should be made
clear; for its influence on subsequent events was to be deep and wide.
For the moment Aerssens remained without employment, and there was no
open rupture with Barneveld. The only difference of opinion between the
Advocate and himself, he said, was whether he had or had not definitely
resigned his post on leaving Paris.

Meantime it was necessary to fix upon a successor for this most important
post. The war soon after the new year had broken out in France. Conde,
Bouillon, and the other malcontent princes with their followers had taken
possession of the fortress of Mezieres, and issued a letter in the name
of Conde to the Queen-Regent demanding an assembly of the States-General
of the kingdom and rupture of the Spanish marriages. Both parties, that
of the government and that of the rebellion, sought the sympathy and
active succour of the States. Maurice, acting now in perfect accord with
the Advocate, sustained the Queen and execrated the rebellion of his
relatives with perfect frankness. Conde, he said, had got his head
stuffed full of almanacs whose predictions he wished to see realized. He
vowed he would have shortened by a head the commander of the garrison who
betrayed Mezieres, if he had been under his control. He forbade on pain
of death the departure of any officer or private of the French regiments
from serving the rebels, and placed the whole French force at the
disposal of the Queen, with as many Netherland regiments as could be
spared. One soldier was hanged and three others branded with the mark of
a gibbet on the face for attempting desertion. The legal government was
loyally sustained by the authority of the States, notwithstanding all the
intrigues of Aerssens with the agents of the princes to procure them
assistance. The mutiny for the time was brief, and was settled on the
15th of May 1614, by the peace of Sainte-Menehould, as much a caricature
of a treaty as the rising had been the parody of a war. Van der Myle,
son-in-law of Barneveld, who had been charged with a special and
temporary mission to France, brought back the terms, of the convention to
the States-General. On the other hand, Conde and his confederates sent a
special agent to the Netherlands to give their account of the war and the
negotiation, who refused to confer either with du Maurier or Barneveld,
but who held much conference with Aerssens.

It was obvious enough that the mutiny of the princes would become
chronic. In truth, what other condition was possible with two characters
like Mary de' Medici and the Prince of Conde respectively at the head of
the government and the revolt? What had France to hope for but to remain
the bloody playground for mischievous idiots, who threw about the
firebrands and arrows of reckless civil war in pursuit of the paltriest
of personal aims?

Van der Myle had pretensions to the vacant place of Aerssens. He had some
experience in diplomacy. He had conducted skilfully enough the first
mission of the States to Venice, and had subsequently been employed in
matters of moment. But he was son-in-law to Barneveld, and although the
Advocate was certainly not free from the charge of nepotism, he shrank
from the reproach of having apparently removed Aerssens to make a place
for one of his own family.

Van der Myle remained to bear the brunt of the late ambassador's malice,
and to engage at a little later period in hottest controversy with him,
personal and political. "Why should van der Myle strut about, with his
arms akimbo like a peacock?" complained Aerssens one day in confused
metaphor. A question not easy to answer satisfactorily.

The minister selected was a certain Baron Asperen de Langerac, wholly
unversed in diplomacy or other public affairs, with abilities not above
the average. A series of questions addressed by him to the Advocate, the
answers to which, scrawled on the margin of the paper, were to serve for
his general instructions, showed an ingenuousness as amusing as the
replies of Barneveld were experienced and substantial.

In general he was directed to be friendly and respectful to every one, to
the Queen-Regent and her counsellors especially, and, within the limits
of becoming reverence for her, to cultivate the good graces of the Prince
of Conde and the other great nobles still malcontent and rebellious, but
whose present movement, as Barneveld foresaw, was drawing rapidly to a
close. Langerac arrived in Paris on the 5th of April 1614.

Du Maurier thought the new ambassador likely to "fall a prey to the
specious language and gentle attractions of the Due de Bouillon." He also
described him as very dependent upon Prince Maurice. On the other hand
Langerac professed unbounded and almost childlike reverence for
Barneveld, was devoted to his person, and breathed as it were only
through his inspiration. Time would show whether those sentiments would
outlast every possible storm.




CHAPTER X

   Weakness of the Rulers of France and England--The Wisdom of
   Barneveld inspires Jealousy--Sir Dudley Carleton succeeds Winwood--
   Young Neuburg under the Guidance of Maximilian--Barneveld strives to
   have the Treaty of Xanten enforced--Spain and the Emperor wish to
   make the States abandon their Position with regard to the Duchies--
   The French Government refuses to aid the States--Spain and the
   Emperor resolve to hold Wesel--The great Religious War begun--The
   Protestant Union and Catholic League both wish to secure the Border
   Provinces--Troubles in Turkey--Spanish Fleet seizes La Roche--Spain
   places large Armies on a War Footing.

Few things are stranger in history than the apathy with which the wide
designs of the Catholic party were at that moment regarded. The
preparations for the immense struggle which posterity learned to call the
Thirty Years' War, and to shudder when speaking of it, were going forward
on every side. In truth the war had really begun, yet those most deeply
menaced by it at the outset looked on with innocent calmness because
their own roofs were not quite yet in a blaze. The passage of arms in the
duchies, the outlines of which have just been indicated, and which was
the natural sequel of the campaign carried out four years earlier on the
same territory, had been ended by a mockery. In France, reduced almost to
imbecility by the absence of a guiding brain during a long minority,
fallen under the distaff of a dowager both weak and wicked, distracted by
the intrigues and quarrels of a swarm of self-seeking grandees, and with
all its offices, from highest to lowest, of court, state, jurisprudence,
and magistracy, sold as openly and as cynically as the commonest wares,
there were few to comprehend or to grapple with the danger. It should
have seemed obvious to the meanest capacity in the kingdom that the great
house of Austria, reigning supreme in Spain and in Germany, could not be
allowed to crush the Duke of Savoy on the one side, and Bohemia, Moravia,
and the Netherlands on the other without danger of subjection for France.
Yet the aim of the Queen-Regent was to cultivate an impossible alliance
with her inevitable foe.

And in England, ruled as it then was with no master mind to enforce
against its sovereign the great lessons of policy, internal and external,
on which its welfare and almost its imperial existence depended, the only
ambition of those who could make their opinions felt was to pursue the
same impossibility, intimate alliance with the universal foe.

Any man with slightest pretensions to statesmanship knew that the liberty
for Protestant worship in Imperial Germany, extorted by force, had been
given reluctantly, and would be valid only as long as that force could
still be exerted or should remain obviously in reserve. The
"Majesty-Letter" and the "Convention" of the two religions would prove as
flimsy as the parchment on which they were engrossed, the Protestant
churches built under that sanction would be shattered like glass, if once
the Catholic rulers could feel their hands as clear as their consciences
would be for violating their sworn faith to heretics. Men knew, even if
the easy-going and uxorious emperor, into which character the once busy
and turbulent Archduke Matthias had subsided, might be willing to keep
his pledges, that Ferdinand of Styria, who would soon succeed him, and
Maximilian of Bavaria were men who knew their own minds, and had mentally
never resigned one inch of the ground which Protestantism imagined itself
to have conquered.

These things seem plain as daylight to all who look back upon them
through the long vista of the past; but the sovereign of England did not
see them or did not choose to see them. He saw only the Infanta and her
two millions of dowry, and he knew that by calling Parliament together to
ask subsidies for an anti-Catholic war he should ruin those golden
matrimonial prospects for his son, while encouraging those "shoemakers,"
his subjects, to go beyond their "last," by consulting the
representatives of his people on matters pertaining to the mysteries of
government. He was slowly digging the grave of the monarchy and building
the scaffold of his son; but he did his work with a laborious and
pedantic trifling, when really engaged in state affairs, most amazing to
contemplate. He had no penny to give to the cause in which his nearest
relatives mere so deeply involved and for which his only possible allies
were pledged; but he was ready to give advice to all parties, and with
ludicrous gravity imagined himself playing the umpire between great
contending hosts, when in reality he was only playing the fool at the
beck of masters before whom he quaked.

"You are not to vilipend my counsel," said he one day to a foreign envoy.
"I am neither a camel nor an ass to take up all this work on my
shoulders. Where would you find another king as willing to do it as I
am?"

The King had little time and no money to give to serve his own family and
allies and the cause of Protestantism, but he could squander vast sums
upon worthless favourites, and consume reams of paper on controverted
points of divinity. The appointment of Vorstius to the chair of theology
in Leyden aroused more indignation in his bosom, and occupied more of his
time, than the conquests of Spinola in the duchies, and the menaces of
Spain against Savoy and Bohemia. He perpetually preached moderation to
the States in the matter of the debateable territory, although moderation
at that moment meant submission to the House of Austria. He chose to
affect confidence in the good faith of those who were playing a comedy by
which no statesman could be deceived, but which had secured the
approbation of the Solomon of the age.

But there was one man who was not deceived. The warnings and the
lamentations of Barneveld sound to us out of that far distant time like
the voice of an inspired prophet. It is possible that a portion of the
wrath to come might have been averted had there been many men in high
places to heed his voice. I do not wish to exaggerate the power and
wisdom of the man, nor to set him forth as one of the greatest heroes of
history. But posterity has done far less than justice to a statesman and
sage who wielded a vast influence at a most critical period in the fate
of Christendom, and uniformly wielded it to promote the cause of
temperate human liberty, both political and religious. Viewed by the
light of two centuries and a half of additional experience, he may appear
to have made mistakes, but none that were necessarily disastrous or even
mischievous. Compared with the prevailing idea of the age in which he
lived, his schemes of polity seem to dilate into large dimensions, his
sentiments of religious freedom, however limited to our modern ideas,
mark an epoch in human progress, and in regard to the general
commonwealth of Christendom, of which he was so leading a citizen, the
part he played was a lofty one. No man certainly understood the tendency
of his age more exactly, took a broader and more comprehensive view than
he did of the policy necessary to preserve the largest portion of the
results of the past three-quarters of a century, or had pondered the
relative value of great conflicting forces more skilfully. Had his
counsels been always followed, had illustrious birth placed him virtually
upon a throne, as was the case with William the Silent, and thus allowed
him occasionally to carry out the designs of a great mind with almost
despotic authority, it might have been better for the world. But in that
age it was royal blood alone that could command unflinching obedience
without exciting personal rivalry. Men quailed before his majestic
intellect, but hated him for the power which was its necessary result.
They already felt a stupid delight in cavilling at his pedigree. To
dispute his claim to a place among the ancient nobility to which he was
an honour was to revenge themselves for the rank he unquestionably
possessed side by side in all but birth with the kings and rulers of the
world. Whether envy and jealousy be vices more incident to the republican
form of government than to other political systems may be an open
question. But it is no question whatever that Barneveld's every footstep
from this period forward was dogged by envy as patient as it was
devouring. Jealousy stuck to him like his shadow. We have examined the
relations which existed between Winwood and himself; we have seen that
ambassador, now secretary of state for James, never weary in denouncing
the Advocate's haughtiness and grim resolution to govern the country
according to its laws rather than at the dictate of a foreign sovereign,
and in flinging forth malicious insinuations in regard to his relations
to Spain. The man whose every hour was devoted in spite of a thousand
obstacles strewn by stupidity, treachery, and apathy, as well as by envy,
hatred, and bigotry--to the organizing of a grand and universal league of
Protestantism against Spain, and to rolling up with strenuous and
sometimes despairing arms a dead mountain weight, ever ready to fall back
upon and crush him, was accused in dark and mysterious whispers, soon to
grow louder and bolder, of a treacherous inclination for Spain.

There is nothing less surprising nor more sickening for those who observe
public life, and wish to retain faith in the human species, than the
almost infinite power of the meanest of passions.

The Advocate was obliged at the very outset of Langerac's mission to
France to give him a warning on this subject.

"Should her Majesty make kindly mention of me," he said, "you will say
nothing of it in your despatches as you did in your last, although I am
sure with the best intentions. It profits me not, and many take umbrage
at it; wherefore it is wise to forbear."

But this was a trifle. By and by there would be many to take umbrage at
every whisper in his favour, whether from crowned heads or from the
simplest in the social scale. Meantime he instructed the Ambassador,
without paying heed to personal compliments to his chief, to do his best
to keep the French government out of the hands of Spain, and with that
object in view to smooth over the differences between the two great
parties in the kingdom, and to gain the confidence, if possible, of Conde
and Nevers and Bouillon, while never failing in straightforward respect
and loyal friendship to the Queen-Regent and her ministers, as the
legitimate heads of the government.

From England a new ambassador was soon to take the place of Winwood. Sir
Dudley Carleton was a diplomatist of respectable abilities, and well
trained to business and routine. Perhaps on the whole there was none
other, in that epoch of official mediocrity, more competent than he to
fill what was then certainly the most important of foreign posts. His
course of life had in no wise familiarized him with the intricacies of
the Dutch constitution, nor could the diplomatic profession, combined
with a long residence at Venice, be deemed especially favourable for deep
studies of the mysteries of predestination. Yet he would be found ready
at the bidding of his master to grapple with Grotius and Barneveld on the
field of history and law, and thread with Uytenbogaert or Taurinus all
the subtleties of Arminianism and Gomarism as if he had been half his
life both a regular practitioner at the Supreme Court of the Hague and
professor of theology at the University of Leyden. Whether the triumphs
achieved in such encounters were substantial and due entirely to his own
genius might be doubtful. At all events he had a sovereign behind him who
was incapable of making a mistake on any subject.

"You shall not forget," said James in his instructions to Sir Dudley,
"that you are the minister of that master whom God hath made the sole
protector of his religion . . . . . and you may let fall how hateful the
maintaining of erroneous opinions is to the majesty of God and how
displeasing to us."

The warlike operations of 1614 had been ended by the abortive peace of
Xanten. The two rival pretenders to the duchies were to halve the
territory, drawing lots for the first choice, all foreign troops were to
be withdrawn, and a pledge was to be given that no fortress should be
placed in the hands of any power. But Spain at the last moment had
refused to sanction the treaty, and everything was remitted to what might
be exactly described as a state of sixes and sevens. Subsequently it was
hoped that the States' troops might be induced to withdraw simultaneously
with the Catholic forces on an undertaking by Spinola that there should
be no re-occupation of the disputed territory either by the Republic or
by Spain. But Barneveld accurately pointed out that, although the Marquis
was a splendid commander and, so long as he was at the head of the
armies, a most powerful potentate, he might be superseded at any moment.
Count Bucquoy, for example, might suddenly appear in his place and refuse
to be bound by any military arrangement of his predecessor. Then the
Archduke proposed to give a guarantee that in case of a mutual withdrawal
there should be no return of the troops, no recapture of garrisons. But
Barneveld, speaking for the States, liked not the security. The Archduke
was but the puppet of Spain, and Spain had no part in the guarantee. She
held the strings, and might cause him at any moment to play what pranks
she chose. It would be the easiest thing in the world for despotic Spain,
so the Advocate thought, to reappear suddenly in force again at a
moment's notice after the States' troops had been withdrawn and partially
disbanded, and it would be difficult for the many-headed and many-tongued
republic to act with similar promptness. To withdraw without a guarantee
from Spain to the Treaty of Xanten, which had once been signed, sealed,
and all but ratified, would be to give up fifty points in the game.
Nothing but disaster could ensue. The Advocate as leader in all these
negotiations and correspondence was ever actuated by the favourite
quotation of William the Silent from Demosthenes, that the safest citadel
against an invader and a tyrant is distrust. And he always distrusted in
these dealings, for he was sure the Spanish cabinet was trying to make
fools of the States, and there were many ready to assist it in the task.
Now that one of the pretenders, temporary master of half the duchies, the
Prince of Neuburg, had espoused both Catholicism and the sister of the
Archbishop of Cologne and the Duke of Bavaria, it would be more safe than
ever for Spain to make a temporary withdrawal. Maximilian of Bavaria was
beyond all question the ablest and most determined leader of the Catholic
party in Germany, and the most straightforward and sincere. No man before
or since his epoch had, like him, been destined to refuse, and more than
once refuse, the Imperial crown.

Through his apostasy the Prince of Neuburg was in danger of losing his
hereditary estates, his brothers endeavouring to dispossess him on the
ground of the late duke's will, disinheriting any one of his heirs who
should become a convert to Catholicism. He had accordingly implored aid
from the King of Spain. Archduke Albert had urged Philip to render such
assistance as a matter of justice, and the Emperor had naturally declared
that the whole right as eldest son belonged, notwithstanding the will, to
the Prince.

With the young Neuburg accordingly under the able guidance of Maximilian,
it was not likely that the grasp of the Spanish party upon these
all-important territories would be really loosened. The Emperor still
claimed the right to decide among the candidates and to hold the
provinces under sequestration till the decision should be made--that was
to say, until the Greek Kalends. The original attempt to do this through
Archduke Leopold had been thwarted, as we have seen, by the prompt
movements of Maurice sustained by the policy of Barneveld. The Advocate
was resolved that the Emperor's name should not be mentioned either in
the preamble or body of the treaty. And his course throughout the
simulations, which were never negotiations, was perpetually baffled as
much by the easiness and languor of his allies as the ingenuity of the
enemy.

He was reproached with the loss of Wesel, that Geneva of the Rhine, which
would never be abandoned by Spain if it was not done forthwith. Let Spain
guarantee the Treaty of Xanten, he said, and then she cannot come back.
All else is illusion. Moreover, the Emperor had given positive orders
that Wesel should not be given up. He was assured by Villeroy that France
would never put on her harness for Aachen, that cradle of Protestantism.
That was for the States-General to do, whom it so much more nearly
concerned. The whole aim of Barneveld was not to destroy the Treaty of
Xanten, but to enforce it in the only way in which it could be enforced,
by the guarantee of Spain. So secured, it would be a barrier in the
universal war of religion which he foresaw was soon to break out. But it
was the resolve of Spain, instead of pledging herself to the treaty, to
establish the legal control of the territory in the hand of the Emperor.
Neuburg complained that Philip in writing to him did not give him the
title of Duke of Julich and Cleve, although he had been placed in
possession of those estates by the arms of Spain. Philip, referring to
Archduke Albert for his opinion on this subject, was advised that, as the
Emperor had not given Neuburg the investiture of the duchies, the King
was quite right in refusing him the title. Even should the Treaty of
Xanten be executed, neither he nor the Elector of Brandenburg would be
anything but administrators until the question of right was decided by
the Emperor.

Spain had sent Neuburg the Order of the Golden Fleece as a reward for his
conversion, but did not intend him to be anything but a man of straw in
the territories which he claimed by sovereign right. They were to form a
permanent bulwark to the Empire, to Spain, and to Catholicism.

Barneveld of course could never see the secret letters passing between
Brussels and Madrid, but his insight into the purposes of the enemy was
almost as acute as if the correspondence of Philip and Albert had been in
the pigeonholes of his writing-desk in the Kneuterdyk.

The whole object of Spain and the Emperor, acting through the Archduke,
was to force the States to abandon their positions in the duchies
simultaneously with the withdrawal of the Spanish troops, and to be
satisfied with a bare convention between themselves and Archduke Albert
that there should be no renewed occupation by either party. Barneveld,
finding it impossible to get Spain upon the treaty, was resolved that at
least the two mediating powers, their great allies, the sovereigns of
Great Britain and France, should guarantee the convention, and that the
promises of the Archduke should be made to them. This was steadily
refused by Spain; for the Archduke never moved an inch in the matter
except according to the orders of Spain, and besides battling and
buffeting with the Archduke, Barneveld was constantly deafened with the
clamour of the English king, who always declared Spain to be in the right
whatever she did, and forced to endure with what patience he might the
goading of that King's envoy. France, on the other hand, supported the
States as firmly as could have been reasonably expected.

"We proposed," said the Archduke, instructing an envoy whom he was
sending to Madrid with detailed accounts of these negotiations, "that the
promise should be made to each other as usual in treaties. But the
Hollanders said the promise should be made to the Kings of France and
England, at which the Emperor would have been deeply offended, as if in
the affair he was of no account at all. At any moment by this arrangement
in concert with France and England the Hollanders might walk in and do
what they liked."

Certainly there could have been no succincter eulogy of the policy
steadily recommended, as we shall have occasion to see, by Barneveld. Had
he on this critical occasion been backed by England and France combined,
Spain would have been forced to beat a retreat, and Protestantism in the
great general war just beginning would have had an enormous advantage in
position. But the English Solomon could not see the wisdom of this
policy. "The King of England says we are right," continued the Archduke,
"and has ordered his ambassador to insist on our view. The French
ambassador here says that his colleague at the Hague has similar
instructions, but admits that he has not acted up to them. There is not
much chance of the Hollanders changing. It would be well that the King
should send a written ultimatum that the Hollanders should sign the
convention which we propose. If they don't agree, the world at least will
see that it is not we who are in fault."

The world would see, and would never have forgiven a statesman in the
position of Barneveld, had he accepted a bald agreement from a
subordinate like the Archduke, a perfectly insignificant personage in the
great drama then enacting, and given up guarantees both from the
Archduke's master and from the two great allies of the Republic. He stood
out manfully against Spain and England at every hazard, and under a
pelting storm of obloquy, and this was the man whose designs the English
secretary of state had dared to describe "as of no other nature than to
cause the Provinces to relapse into the hands of Spain."

It appeared too a little later that Barneveld's influence with the French
government, owing to his judicious support of it so long as it was a
government, had been decidedly successful. Drugged as France was by the
Spanish marriage treaty, she was yet not so sluggish nor spell-bound as
the King of Great Britain.

"France will not urge upon the Hollanders to execute the proposal as we
made it," wrote the Archduke to the King, "so negotiations are at a
standstill. The Hollanders say it is better that each party should remain
with what each possesses. So that if it does not come to blows, and if
these insolences go on as they have done, the Hollanders will be gaining
and occupying more territory every day."

Thus once more the ancient enemies and masters of the Republic were
making the eulogy of the Dutch statesman. It was impossible at present
for the States to regain Wesel, nor that other early stronghold of the
Reformation, the old Imperial city of Aachen (Aix-la-Chapelle). The price
to be paid was too exorbitant.

The French government had persistently refused to assist the States and
possessory princes in the recovery of this stronghold. The Queen-Regent
was afraid of offending Spain, although her government had induced the
citizens of the place to make the treaty now violated by that country.
The Dutch ambassador had been instructed categorically to enquire whether
their Majesties meant to assist Aachen and the princes if attacked by the
Archdukes. "No," said Villeroy; "we are not interested in Aachen, 'tis
too far off. Let them look for assistance to those who advised their
mutiny."

To the Ambassador's remonstrance that France was both interested in and
pledged to them, the Secretary of State replied, "We made the treaty
through compassion and love, but we shall not put on harness for Aachen.
Don't think it. You, the States and the United Provinces, may assist them
if you like."

The Envoy then reminded the Minister that the States-General had always
agreed to go forward evenly in this business with the Kings of Great
Britain and France and the united princes, the matter being of equal
importance to all. They had given no further pledge than this to the
Union.

It was plain, however, that France was determined not to lift a finger at
that moment. The Duke of Bouillon and those acting with him had tried
hard to induce their Majesties "to write seriously to the Archduke in
order at least to intimidate him by stiff talk," but it was hopeless.
They thought it was not a time then to quarrel with their neighbour and
give offence to Spain.

So the stiff talk was omitted, and the Archduke was not intimidated. The
man who had so often intimidated him was in his grave, and his widow was
occupied in marrying her son to the Infanta. "These are the
first-fruits," said Aerssens, "of the new negotiations with Spain."

Both the Spanish king and the Emperor were resolved to hold Wesel to the
very last. Until the States should retire from all their positions on the
bare word of the Archduke, that the Spanish forces once withdrawn would
never return, the Protestants of those two cities must suffer. There was
no help for it. To save them would be to abandon all. For no true
statesman could be so ingenuous as thus to throw all the cards on the
table for the Spanish and Imperial cabinet to shuffle them at pleasure
for a new deal. The Duke of Neuburg, now Catholic and especially
protected by Spain, had become, instead of a pretender with more or less
law on his side, a mere standard-bearer and agent of the Great Catholic
League in the debateable land. He was to be supported at all hazard by
the Spanish forces, according to the express command of Philip's
government, especially now that his two brothers with the countenance of
the States were disputing his right to his hereditary dominions in
Germany.

The Archduke was sullen enough at what he called the weak-mindedness of
France. Notwithstanding that by express orders from Spain he had sent
5000 troops under command of Juan de Rivas to the Queen's assistance just
before the peace of Sainte-Menehould, he could not induce her government
to take the firm part which the English king did in browbeating the
Hollanders.

"'Tis certain," he complained, "that if, instead of this sluggishness on
the part of France, they had done us there the same good services we have
had from England, the Hollanders would have accepted the promise just as
it was proposed by us." He implored the King, therefore, to use his
strongest influence with the French government that it should strenuously
intervene with the Hollanders, and compel them to sign the proposal which
they rejected. "There is no means of composition if France does not
oblige them to sign," said Albert rather piteously.

But it was not without reason that Barneveld had in many of his letters
instructed the States' ambassador, Langerac, "to caress the old
gentleman" (meaning and never naming Villeroy), for he would prove to be
in spite of all obstacles a good friend to the States, as he always had
been. And Villeroy did hold firm. Whether the Archduke was right or not
in his conviction, that, if France would only unite with England in
exerting a strong pressure on the Hollanders, they would evacuate the
duchies, and so give up the game, the correspondence of Barneveld shows
very accurately. But the Archduke, of course, had not seen that
correspondence.

The Advocate knew what was plotting, what was impending, what was
actually accomplished, for he was accustomed to sweep the whole horizon
with an anxious and comprehensive glance. He knew without requiring to
read the secret letters of the enemy that vast preparations for an
extensive war against the Reformation were already completed. The
movements in the duchies were the first drops of a coming deluge. The
great religious war which was to last a generation of mankind had already
begun; the immediate and apparent pretext being a little disputed
succession to some petty sovereignties, the true cause being the
necessity for each great party--the Protestant Union and the Catholic
League--to secure these border provinces, the possession of which would
be of such inestimable advantage to either. If nothing decisive occurred
in the year 1614, the following year would still be more convenient for
the League. There had been troubles in Turkey. The Grand Vizier had been
murdered. The Sultan was engaged in a war with Persia. There was no
eastern bulwark in Europe to the ever menacing power of the Turk and of
Mahometanism in Europe save Hungary alone. Supported and ruled as that
kingdom was by the House of Austria, the temper of the populations of
Germany had become such as to make it doubtful in the present conflict of
religious opinions between them and their rulers whether the Turk or the
Spaniard would be most odious as an invader. But for the moment, Spain
and the Emperor had their hands free. They were not in danger of an
attack from below the Danube. Moreover, the Spanish fleet had been
achieving considerable successes on the Barbary coast, having seized La
Roche, and one or two important citadels, useful both against the
corsairs and against sudden attacks by sea from the Turk. There were at
least 100,000 men on a war footing ready to take the field at command of
the two branches of the House of Austria, Spanish and German. In the
little war about Montserrat, Savoy was on the point of being crushed, and
Savoy was by position and policy the only possible ally, in the south, of
the Netherlands and of Protestant Germany.

While professing the most pacific sentiments towards the States, and a
profound anxiety to withdraw his troops from their borders, the King of
Spain, besides daily increasing those forces, had just raised 4,000,000
ducats, a large portion of which was lodged with his bankers in Brussels.
Deeds like those were of more significance than sugared words.

     ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

     Almost infinite power of the meanest of passions
     Ludicrous gravity
     Safest citadel against an invader and a tyrant is distrust
     Their own roofs were not quite yet in a blaze
     Therefore now denounced the man whom he had injured

     ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS, ENTIRE JOHN OF BARNEVELD 1609-1615:

     Abstinence from inquisition into consciences and private parlour
     Advanced orthodox party-Puritans
     Allowed the demon of religious hatred to enter into its body
     Almost infinite power of the meanest of passions
     And now the knife of another priest-led fanatic
     Aristocracy of God's elect
     As with his own people, keeping no back-door open
     At a blow decapitated France
     Atheist, a tyrant, because he resisted dictation from the clergy
     Behead, torture, burn alive, and bury alive all heretics
     Christian sympathy and a small assistance not being sufficient
     Conclusive victory for the allies seemed as predestined
     Contained within itself the germs of a larger liberty
     Could not be both judge and party in the suit
     Covered now with the satirical dust of centuries
     Deadly hatred of Puritans in England and Holland
     Determined to bring the very name of liberty into contempt
     Disputing the eternal damnation of young children
     Doctrine of predestination in its sternest and strictest sense
     Emperor of Japan addressed him as his brother monarch
     Epernon, the true murderer of Henry
     Estimating his character and judging his judges
     Everybody should mind his own business
     Fate, free will, or absolute foreknowledge
     Father Cotton, who was only too ready to betray the secrets
     Give him advice if he asked it, and money when he required
     Great war of religion and politics was postponed
     He was not imperial of aspect on canvas or coin
     He was a sincere bigot
     He who would have all may easily lose all
     He who spreads the snare always tumbles into the ditch himself
     Impatience is often on the part of the non-combatants
     Intense bigotry of conviction
     International friendship, the self-interest of each
     It was the true religion, and there was none other
     James of England, who admired, envied, and hated Henry
     Jealousy, that potent principle
     Jesuit Mariana--justifying the killing of excommunicated kings
     King's definite and final intentions, varied from day to day
     Language which is ever living because it is dead
     Louis XIII.
     Ludicrous gravity
     More fiercely opposed to each other than to Papists
     Most detestable verses that even he had ever composed
     Neither kings nor governments are apt to value logic
     No man can be neutral in civil contentions
     No synod had a right to claim Netherlanders as slaves
     No man pretended to think of the State
     None but God to compel me to say more than I choose to say
     Outdoing himself in dogmatism and inconsistency
     Philip IV.
     Power the poison of which it is so difficult to resist
     Practised successfully the talent of silence
     Presents of considerable sums of money to the negotiators made
     Priests shall control the state or the state govern the priests
     Princes show what they have in them at twenty-five or never
     Putting the cart before the oxen
     Queen is entirely in the hands of Spain and the priests
     Religion was made the strumpet of Political Ambition
     Religious toleration, which is a phrase of insult
     Safest citadel against an invader and a tyrant is distrust
     Schism in the Church had become a public fact
     Secure the prizes of war without the troubles and dangers
     Senectus edam maorbus est
     She declined to be his procuress
     Small matter which human folly had dilated into a great one
     Smooth words, in the plentiful lack of any substantial
     So much in advance of his time as to favor religious equality
     Stroke of a broken table knife sharpened on a carriage wheel
     That cynical commerce in human lives
     The defence of the civil authority against the priesthood
     The assassin, tortured and torn by four horses
     The truth in shortest about matters of importance
     The voice of slanderers
     The Catholic League and the Protestant Union
     The vehicle is often prized more than the freight
     Their own roofs were not quite yet in a blaze
     Theological hatred was in full blaze throughout the country
     Theology and politics were one
     There was no use in holding language of authority to him
     There was but one king in Europe, Henry the Bearnese
     Therefore now denounced the man whom he had injured
     They have killed him, 'e ammazato,' cried Concini
     Things he could tell which are too odious and dreadful
     Thirty Years' War tread on the heels of the forty years
     To look down upon their inferior and lost fellow creatures
     Uncouple the dogs and let them run
     Unimaginable outrage as the most legitimate industry
     Vows of an eternal friendship of several weeks' duration
     What could save the House of Austria, the cause of Papacy
     Whether repentance could effect salvation
     Whether dead infants were hopelessly damned
     Whose mutual hatred was now artfully inflamed by partisans
     Wish to appear learned in matters of which they are ignorant
     Work of the aforesaid Puritans and a few Jesuits
     Wrath of the Jesuits at this exercise of legal authority






THE LIFE AND DEATH of JOHN OF BARNEVELD, ADVOCATE OF HOLLAND
WITH A VIEW OF THE PRIMARY CAUSES AND MOVEMENTS OF THE THIRTY YEARS' WAR

By John Lothrop Motley, D.C.L., LL.D.

MOTLEY'S HISTORY OF THE NETHERLANDS, Project Gutenberg Edition, Volume 98

Life and Death of John of Barneveld, Complete, 1614-23




Life and Death of John of Barneveld, v7, 1614-17




CHAPTER XI.

   The Advocate sounds the Alarm in Germany--His Instructions to
   Langerac and his Forethought--The Prince--Palatine and his Forces
   take Aachen, Mulheim, and other Towns--Supineness of the
   Protestants--Increased Activity of Austria and the League--Barneveld
   strives to obtain Help from England--Neuburg departs for Germany--
   Barneveld the Prime Minister of Protestantism--Ernest Mansfield
   takes service under Charles Emmanuel--Count John of Nassau goes to
   Savoy--Slippery Conduct of King James in regard to the New Treaty
   proposed--Barneveld's Influence greater in France than in England--
   Sequestration feared--The Elector of Brandenburg cited to appear
   before the Emperor at Prague--Murder of John van Wely--Uytenbogaert
   incurs Maurice's Displeasure--Marriage of the King of France with
   Anne of Austria--Conference between King James and Caron concerning
   Piracy, Cloth Trade and Treaty of Xanten--Barneveld's Survey of the
   Condition of Europe--His Efforts to avert the impending general War.

I have thus purposely sketched the leading features of a couple of
momentous, although not eventful, years--so far as the foreign policy of
the Republic is concerned--in order that the reader may better understand
the bearings and the value of the Advocate's actions and writings at that
period. This work aims at being a political study. I would attempt to
exemplify the influence of individual humours and passions--some of them
among the highest and others certainly the basest that agitate
humanity-upon the march of great events, upon general historical results
at certain epochs, and upon the destiny of eminent personages. It may
also be not uninteresting to venture a glance into the internal structure
and workings of a republican and federal system of government, then for
the first time reproduced almost spontaneously upon an extended scale.

Perhaps the revelation of some of its defects, in spite of the faculty
and vitality struggling against them, may not be without value for our
own country and epoch. The system of Switzerland was too limited and
homely, that of Venice too purely oligarchical, to have much moral for us
now, or to render a study of their pathological phenomena especially
instructive. The lessons taught us by the history of the Netherland
confederacy may have more permanent meaning.

Moreover, the character of a very considerable statesman at an
all-important epoch, and in a position of vast responsibility, is always
an historical possession of value to mankind. That of him who furnishes
the chief theme for these pages has been either overlooked and neglected
or perhaps misunderstood by posterity. History has not too many really
important and emblematic men on its records to dispense with the memory
of Barneveld, and the writer therefore makes no apology for dilating
somewhat fully upon his lifework by means of much of his entirely
unpublished and long forgotten utterances.

The Advocate had ceaselessly been sounding the alarm in Germany. For the
Protestant Union, fascinated, as it were, by the threatening look of the
Catholic League, seemed relapsing into a drowse.

"I believe," he said to one of his agents in that country, "that the
Evangelical electors and princes and the other estates are not alive to
the danger. I am sure that it is not apprehended in Great Britain. France
is threatened with troubles. These are the means to subjugate the
religion, the laws and liberties of Germany. Without an army the troops
now on foot in Italy cannot be kept out of Germany. Yet we do not hear
that the Evangelicals are making provision of troops, money, or any other
necessaries. In this country we have about one hundred places occupied
with our troops, among whom are many who could destroy a whole army. But
the maintenance of these places prevents our being very strong in the
field, especially outside our frontiers. But if in all Germany there be
many places held by the Evangelicals which would disperse a great army is
very doubtful. Keep a watchful eye. Economy is a good thing, but the
protection of a country and its inhabitants must be laid to heart. Watch
well if against these Provinces, and against Bohemia, Austria, and other
as it is pretended rebellious states, these plans are not directed. Look
out for the movements of the Italian and Bavarian troops against Germany.
You see how they are nursing the troubles and misunderstandings in
France, and turning them to account."

He instructed the new ambassador in Paris to urge upon the French
government the absolute necessity of punctuality in furnishing the
payment of their contingent in the Netherlands according to convention.
The States of Holland themselves had advanced the money during three
years' past, but this anticipation was becoming very onerous. It was
necessary to pay the troops every month regularly, but the funds from
Paris were always in arrear. England contributed about one-half as much
in subsidy, but these moneys went in paying the garrisons of Brielle,
Flushing, and Rammekens, fortresses pledged to that crown. The Ambassador
was shrewdly told not to enlarge on the special employment of the English
funds while holding up to the Queen's government that she was not the
only potentate who helped bear burthens for the Provinces, and insisted
on a continuation of this aid. "Remember and let them remember," said the
Advocate, "that the reforms which they are pretending to make there by
relieving the subjects of contributions tends to enervate the royal
authority and dignity both within and without, to diminish its lustre and
reputation, and in sum to make the King unable to gratify and assist his
subjects, friends, and allies. Make them understand that the taxation in
these Provinces is ten times higher than there, and that My Lords the
States hitherto by the grace of God and good administration have
contrived to maintain it in order to be useful to themselves and their
friends. Take great pains to have it well understood that this is even
more honourable and more necessary for a king of France, especially in
his minority, than for a republic 'hoc turbato seculo.' We all see
clearly how some potentates in Europe are keeping at all time under one
pretext or another strong forces well armed on a war footing. It
therefore behoves his Majesty to be likewise provided with troops, and at
least with a good exchequer and all the requirements of war, as well for
the security of his own state as for the maintenance of the grandeur and
laudable reputation left to him by the deceased king."

Truly here was sound and substantial advice, never and nowhere more
needed than in France. It was given too with such good effect as to bear
fruit even upon stoniest ground, and it is a refreshing spectacle to see
this plain Advocate of a republic, so lately sprung into existence out of
the depths of oppression and rebellion, calmly summoning great kings as
it were before him and instructing them in those vital duties of
government in discharge of which the country he administered already
furnished a model. Had England and France each possessed a Barneveld at
that epoch, they might well have given in exchange for him a wilderness
of Epernons and Sillerys, Bouillons and Conde's; of Winwoods, Lakes,
Carrs, and Villierses. But Elizabeth with her counsellors was gone, and
Henry was gone, and Richelieu had not come; while in England James and
his minions were diligently opening an abyss between government and
people which in less than half a lifetime more should engulph the
kingdom.

Two months later he informed the States' ambassador of the communications
made by the Prince of Conde and the Dukes of Nevers and Bouillon to the
government at the Hague now that they had effected a kind of
reconciliation with the Queen. Langerac was especially instructed to do
his best to assist in bringing about cordial relations, if that were
possible, between the crown and the rebels, and meantime he was
especially directed to defend du Maurier against the calumnious
accusations brought against him, of which Aerssens had been the secret
sower.

"You will do your best to manage," he said, "that no special ambassador
be sent hither, and that M. du Maurier may remain with us, he being a
very intelligent and moderate person now well instructed as to the state
of our affairs, a professor of the Reformed religion, and having many
other good qualities serviceable to their Majesties and to us.

"You will visit the Prince, and other princes and officers of the crown
who are coming to court again, and do all good offices as well for the
court as for M. du Maurier, in order that through evil plots and
slanderous reports no harm may come to him.

"Take great pains to find out all you can there as to the designs of the
King of Spain, the Archdukes, and the Emperor, in the affair of Julich.
You are also to let it be known that the change of religion on the part
of the Prince-Palatine of Neuburg will not change our good will and
affection for him, so far as his legal claims are concerned."

So long as it was possible for the States to retain their hold on both
the claimants, the Advocate, pursuant to his uniform policy of
moderation, was not disposed to help throw the Palatine into the hands of
the Spanish party. He was well aware, however, that Neuburg by his
marriage and his conversion was inevitably to become the instrument of
the League and to be made use of in the duchies at its pleasure, and that
he especially would be the first to submit with docility to the decree of
the Emperor. The right to issue such decree the States under guidance of
Barneveld were resolved to resist at all hazards.

"Work diligently, nevertheless," said he, "that they permit nothing there
directly or indirectly that may tend to the furtherance of the League, as
too prejudicial to us and to all our fellow religionists. Tell them too
that the late king, the King of Great Britain, the united electors and
princes of Germany, and ourselves, have always been resolutely opposed to
making the dispute about the succession in the duchies depend on the will
of the Emperor and his court. All our movements in the year 1610 against
the attempted sequestration under Leopold were to carry out that purpose.
Hold it for certain that our present proceedings for strengthening and
maintaining the city and fortress of Julich are considered serviceable
and indispensable by the British king and the German electors and
princes. Use your best efforts to induce the French government to pursue
the same policy--if it be not possible openly, then at least secretly. My
conviction is that, unless the Prince-Palatine is supported by, and his
whole designs founded upon, the general league against all our brethren
of the religion, affairs may be appeased."

The Envoy was likewise instructed to do his best to further the
matrimonial alliance which had begun to be discussed between the Prince
of Wales and the second daughter of France. Had it been possible at that
moment to bring the insane dream of James for a Spanish alliance to
naught, the States would have breathed more freely. He was also to urge
payment of the money for the French regiments, always in arrears since
Henry's death and Sully's dismissal, and always supplied by the exchequer
of Holland. He was informed that the Republic had been sending some war
ships to the Levant, to watch the armada recently sent thither by Spain,
and other armed vessels into the Baltic, to pursue the corsairs with whom
every sea was infested. In one year alone he estimated the loss to Dutch
merchants by these pirates at 800,000 florins. "We have just captured two
of the rovers, but the rascally scum is increasing," he said.

Again alluding to the resistance to be made by the States to the Imperial
pretensions, he observed, "The Emperor is about sending us a herald in
the Julich matter, but we know how to stand up to him."

And notwithstanding the bare possibility which he had admitted, that the
Prince of Neuburg might not yet have wholly sold himself, body and soul,
to the Papists, he gave warning a day or two afterwards in France that
all should be prepared for the worst.

"The Archdukes and the Prince of Neuburg appear to be taking the war
earnestly in hand," he said. "We believe that the Papistical League is
about to make a great effort against all the co-religionists. We are
watching closely their movements. Aachen is first threatened, and the
Elector-Palatine likewise. France surely, for reasons of state, cannot
permit that they should be attacked. She did, and helped us to do, too
much in the Julich campaign to suffer the Spaniards to make themselves
masters there now."

It has been seen that the part played by France in the memorable campaign
of 1610 was that of admiring auxiliary to the States' forces; Marshal de
la Chatre having in all things admitted the superiority of their army and
the magnificent generalship of Prince Maurice. But the government of the
Dowager had been committed by that enterprise to carry out the life-long
policy of Henry, and to maintain his firm alliance with the Republic.
Whether any of the great king's acuteness and vigour in countermining and
shattering the plans of the House of Austria was left in the French
court, time was to show. Meantime Barneveld was crying himself hoarse
with warnings into the dull ears of England and France.

A few weeks later the Prince of Neuburg had thrown off the mask. Twelve
thousand foot and 1500 horse had been raised in great haste, so the
Advocate informed the French court, by Spain and the Archdukes, for the
use of that pretender. Five or six thousand Spaniards were coming by sea
to Flanders, and as many Italians were crossing the mountains, besides a
great number mustering for the same purpose in Germany and Lorraine.
Barneveld was constantly receiving most important intelligence of
military plans and movements from Prague, which he placed daily before
the eyes of governments wilfully blind.

"I ponder well at this crisis," he said to his friend Caron, "the
intelligence I received some months back from Ratisbon, out of the
cabinet of the Jesuits, that the design of the Catholic or Roman League
is to bring this year a great army into the field, in order to make
Neuburg, who was even then said to be of the Roman profession and League,
master of Julich and the duchies; to execute the Imperial decree against
Aachen and Mulheim, preventing any aid from being sent into Germany by
these Provinces, or by Great Britain, and placing the Archduke and
Marquis Spinola in command of the forces; to put another army on the
frontiers of Austria, in order to prevent any succour coming from
Hungary, Bohemia, Austria, Moravia, and Silesia into Germany; to keep all
these disputed territories in subjection and devotion to the Emperor, and
to place the general conduct of all these affairs in the hands of
Archduke Leopold and other princes of the House of Austria. A third army
is to be brought into the Upper Palatinate, under command of the Duke of
Bavaria and others of the League, destined to thoroughly carry out its
designs against the Elector-Palatine, and the other electors, princes,
and estates belonging to the religion."

This intelligence, plucked by Barneveld out of the cabinet of the
Jesuits, had been duly communicated by him months before to those whom it
most concerned, and as usual it seemed to deepen the lethargy of the
destined victims and their friends. Not only the whole Spanish campaign
of the present year had thus been duly mapped out by the Advocate, long
before it occurred, but this long buried and forgotten correspondence of
the statesman seems rather like a chronicle of transactions already past,
so closely did the actual record, which posterity came to know too well,
resemble that which he saw, and was destined only to see, in prophetic
vision.

Could this political seer have cast his horoscope of the Thirty Years'
War at this hour of its nativity for the instruction of such men as
Walsingham or Burleigh, Henry of Navarre or Sully, Richelieu or Gustavus
Adolphus, would the course of events have been modified? These very
idlest of questions are precisely those which inevitably occur as one
ponders the seeming barrenness of an epoch in reality so pregnant.

"One would think," said Barneveld, comparing what was then the future
with the real past, "that these plans in Prague against the
Elector-Palatine are too gross for belief; but when I reflect on the
intense bitterness of these people, when I remember what was done within
living men's memory to the good elector Hans Frederic of Saxony for
exactly the same reasons, to wit, hatred of our religion, and
determination to establish Imperial authority, I have great apprehension.
I believe that the Roman League will use the present occasion to carry
out her great design; holding France incapable of opposition to her,
Germany in too great division, and imagining to themselves that neither
the King of Great Britain nor these States are willing or able to offer
effectual and forcible resistance. Yet his Majesty of Great Britain ought
to be able to imagine how greatly the religious matter in general
concerns himself and the electoral house of the Palatine, as principal
heads of the religion, and that these vast designs should be resisted
betimes, and with all possible means and might. My Lords the States have
good will, but not sufficient strength, to oppose these great forces
single-handed. One must not believe that without great and prompt
assistance in force from his Majesty and other fellow religionists My
Lords the States can undertake so vast an affair. Do your uttermost duty
there, in order that, ere it be too late, this matter be taken to heart
by his Majesty, and that his authority and credit be earnestly used with
other kings, electors, princes, and republics, that they do likewise. The
promptest energy, good will, and affection may be reckoned on from us."

Alas! it was easy for his Majesty to take to heart the matter of Conrad
Vorstius, to spend reams of diplomatic correspondence, to dictate whole
volumes for orations brimming over with theological wrath, for the
edification of the States-General, against that doctor of divinity. But
what were the special interests of his son-in-law, what the danger to all
the other Protestant electors and kings, princes and republics, what the
imperilled condition of the United Provinces, and, by necessary
consequence, the storm gathering over his own throne, what the whole fate
of Protestantism, from Friesland to Hungary, threatened by the
insatiable, all-devouring might of the double house of Austria, the
ancient church, and the Papistical League, what were hundred thousands of
men marching towards Bohemia, the Netherlands, and the duchies, with the
drum beating for mercenary recruits in half the villages of Spain, Italy,
and Catholic Germany, compared with the danger to Christendom from an
Arminian clergyman being appointed to the theological professorship at
Leyden?

The world was in a blaze, kings and princes were arming, and all the time
that the monarch of the powerful, adventurous, and heroic people of Great
Britain could spare from slobbering over his minions, and wasting the
treasures of the realm to supply their insatiate greed, was devoted to
polemical divinity, in which he displayed his learning, indeed, but
changed his positions and contradicted himself day by day. The magnitude
of this wonderful sovereign's littleness oppresses the imagination.

Moreover, should he listen to the adjurations of the States and his
fellow religionists, should he allow himself to be impressed by the
eloquence of Barneveld and take a manly and royal decision in the great
emergency, it would be indispensable for him to come before that odious
body, the Parliament of Great Britain, and ask for money. It would be
perhaps necessary for him to take them into his confidence, to degrade
himself by speaking to them of the national affairs. They might not be
satisfied with the honour of voting the supplies at his demand, but were
capable of asking questions as to their appropriation. On the whole it
was more king-like and statesman-like to remain quiet, and give advice.
Of that, although always a spendthrift, he had an inexhaustible supply.

Barneveld had just hopes from the Commons of Great Britain, if the King
could be brought to appeal to Parliament. Once more he sounded the bugle
of alarm. "Day by day the Archdukes are making greater and greater
enrolments of riders and infantry in ever increasing mass," he cried,
"and therewith vast provision of artillery and all munitions of war.
Within ten or twelve days they will be before Julich in force. We are
sending great convoys to reinforce our army there. The Prince of Neuburg
is enrolling more and more troops every day. He will soon be master of
Mulheim. If the King of Great Britain will lay this matter earnestly to
heart for the preservation of the princes, electors, and estates of the
religion, I cannot doubt that Parliament would cooperate well with his
Majesty, and this occasion should be made use of to redress the whole
state of affairs."

It was not the Parliament nor the people of Great Britain that would be
in fault when the question arose of paying in money and in blood for the
defence of civil and religious liberty. But if James should venture
openly to oppose Spain, what would the Count of Gondemar say, and what
would become of the Infanta and the two millions of dowry?

It was not for want of some glimmering consciousness in the mind of James
of the impending dangers to Northern Europe and to Protestantism from the
insatiable ambition of Spain, and the unrelenting grasp of the Papacy
upon those portions of Christendom which were slipping from its control,
that his apathy to those perils was so marked. We have seen his leading
motives for inaction, and the world was long to feel its effects.

"His Majesty firmly believes," wrote Secretary Winwood, "that the
Papistical League is brewing great and dangerous plots. To obviate them
in everything that may depend upon him, My Lords the States will find him
prompt. The source of all these entanglements comes from Spain. We do not
think that the Archduke will attack Julich this year, but rather fear for
Mulheim and Aix-la-Chapelle."

But the Secretary of State, thus acknowledging the peril, chose to be
blind to its extent, while at the same time undervaluing the powers by
which it might be resisted. "To oppose the violence of the enemy," he
said, "if he does resort to violence, is entirely impossible. It would be
furious madness on our part to induce him to fall upon the
Elector-Palatine, for this would be attacking Great Britain and all her
friends and allies. Germany is a delicate morsel, but too much for the
throat of Spain to swallow all at once. Behold the evil which troubles
the conscience of the Papistical League. The Emperor and his brothers are
all on the brink of their sepulchre, and the Infants of Spain are too
young to succeed to the Empire. The Pope would more willingly permit its
dissolution than its falling into the hands of a prince not of his
profession. All that we have to do in this conjuncture is to attend the
best we can to our own affairs, and afterwards to strengthen the good
alliance existing among us, and not to let ourselves be separated by the
tricks and sleights of hand of our adversaries. The common cause can
reckon firmly upon the King of Great Britain, and will not find itself
deceived."

Excellent commonplaces, but not very safe ones. Unluckily for the allies,
to attend each to his own affairs when the enemy was upon them, and to
reckon firmly upon a king who thought it furious madness to resist the
enemy, was hardly the way to avert the danger. A fortnight later, the man
who thought it possible to resist, and time to resist, before the net was
over every head, replied to the Secretary by a picture of the Spaniards'
progress.

"Since your letter," he said, "you have seen the course of Spinola with
the army of the King and the Archdukes. You have seen the Prince-Palatine
of Neuburg with his forces maintained by the Pope and other members of
the Papistical League. On the 29th of August they forced Aachen, where
the magistrates and those of the Reformed religion have been extremely
maltreated. Twelve hundred soldiers are lodged in the houses there of
those who profess our religion. Mulheim is taken and dismantled, and the
very houses about to be torn down. Duren, Castre, Grevenborg, Orsoy,
Duisburg, Ruhrort, and many other towns, obliged to receive Spanish
garrisons. On the 4th of September they invested Wesel. On the 6th it was
held certain that the cities of Cleve, Emmerich, Rees, and others in that
quarter, had consented to be occupied. The States have put one hundred
and thirty-five companies of foot (about 14,000 men) and 4000 horse and a
good train of artillery in the field, and sent out some ships of war.
Prince Maurice left the Hague on the 4th of September to assist Wesel,
succour the Prince of Brandenburg, and oppose the hostile proceedings of
Spinola and the Palatine of Neuburg . . . . Consider, I pray you, this
state of things, and think how much heed they have paid to the demands of
the Kings of Great Britain and France to abstain from hostilities. Be
sure that without our strong garrison in Julich they would have snapped
up every city in Julich, Cleve, and Berg. But they will now try to make
use of their slippery tricks, their progress having been arrested by our
army. The Prince of Neuburg is sending his chancellor here 'cum mediis
componendae pacis,' in appearance good and reasonable, in reality
deceptive . . . . If their Majesties, My Lords the States, and the
princes of the Union, do not take an energetic resolution for making head
against their designs, behold their League in full vigour and ours
without soul. Neither the strength nor the wealth of the States are
sufficient of themselves to withstand their ambitious and dangerous
designs. We see the possessory princes treated as enemies upon their own
estates, and many thousand souls of the Reformed religion cruelly
oppressed by the Papistical League. For myself I am confirmed in my
apprehensions and believe that neither our religion nor our Union can
endure such indignities. The enemy is making use of the minority in
France and the divisions among the princes of Germany to their great
advantage . . . . I believe that the singular wisdom of his Majesty will
enable him to apply promptly the suitable remedies, and that your
Parliament will make no difficulty in acquitting itself well in repairing
those disorders."

The year dragged on to its close. The supineness of the Protestants
deepened in direct proportion to the feverish increase of activity on the
part of Austria and the League. The mockery of negotiation in which
nothing could be negotiated, the parade of conciliation when war of
extermination was intended, continued on the part of Spain and Austria.
Barneveld was doing his best to settle all minor differences between the
States and Great Britain, that these two bulwarks of Protestantism might
stand firmly together against the rising tide. He instructed the
Ambassador to exhaust every pacific means of arrangement in regard to the
Greenland fishery disputes, the dyed cloth question, and like causes of
ill feeling. He held it more than necessary, he said, that the
inhabitants of the two countries should now be on the very best terms
with each other. Above all, he implored the King through the Ambassador
to summon Parliament in order that the kingdom might be placed in
position to face the gathering danger.

"I am amazed and distressed," he said, "that the statesmen of England do
not comprehend the perils with which their fellow religionists are
everywhere threatened, especially in Germany and in these States. To
assist us with bare advice and sometimes with traducing our actions,
while leaving us to bear alone the burthens, costs, and dangers, is not
serviceable to us." Referring to the information and advice which he had
sent to England and to France fifteen months before, he now gave
assurance that the Prince of Neuburg and Spinola were now in such force,
both foot and cavalry, with all necessary munitions, as to hold these
most important territories as a perpetual "sedem bedli," out of which to
attack Germany at their pleasure and to cut off all possibility of aid
from England and the States. He informed the court of St. James that
besides the forces of the Emperor and the House of Austria, the Duke of
Bavaria and Spanish Italy, there were now several thousand horse and foot
under the Bishop of Wurzburg, 8000 or 9000 under the Bishop-Elector of
Mayence, and strong bodies of cavalry under Count Vaudemont in Lorraine,
all mustering for the war. The pretext seems merely to reduce Frankfurt
to obedience, even as Donauworth had previously been used as a colour for
vast designs. The real purpose was to bring the Elector-Palatine and the
whole Protestant party in Germany to submission. "His Majesty," said the
Advocate, "has now a very great and good subject upon which to convoke
Parliament and ask for a large grant. This would be doubtless consented
to if Parliament receives the assurance that the money thus accorded
shall be applied to so wholesome a purpose. You will do your best to
further this great end. We are waiting daily to hear if the Xanten
negotiation is broken off or not. I hope and I fear. Meantime we bear as
heavy burthens as if we were actually at war."

He added once more the warning, which it would seem superfluous to repeat
even to schoolboys in diplomacy, that this Xanten treaty, as proposed by
the enemy, was a mere trap.

Spinola and Neuburg, in case of the mutual disbanding, stood ready at an
instant's warning to re-enlist for the League not only all the troops
that the Catholic army should nominally discharge, but those which would
be let loose from the States' army and that of Brandenburg as well. They
would hold Rheinberg, Groll, Lingen, Oldenzaal, Wachtendonk, Maestricht,
Aachen, and Mulheim with a permanent force of more than 20,000 men. And
they could do all this in four days' time.

A week or two later all his prophesies had been fulfilled. "The Prince of
Neuburg," he said, "and Marquis Spinola have made game of us most
impudently in the matter of the treaty. This is an indignity for us,
their Majesties, and the electors and princes. We regard it as
intolerable. A despatch came from Spain forbidding a further step in the
negotiation without express order from the King. The Prince and Spinola
are gone to Brussels, the ambassadors have returned to the Hague, the
armies are established in winter-quarters. The cavalry are ravaging the
debateable land and living upon the inhabitants at their discretion. M.
de Refuge is gone to complain to the Archdukes of the insult thus put
upon his sovereign. Sir Henry Wotton is still here. We have been plunged
into an immensity of extraordinary expense, and are amazed that at this
very moment England should demand money from us when we ought to be
assisted by a large subsidy by her. We hope that now at least his Majesty
will take a vigorous resolution and not suffer his grandeur and dignity
to be vilipended longer. If the Spaniard is successful in this step, he
is ready for greater ones, and will believe that mankind is ready to bear
and submit to everything. His Majesty is the first king of the religion.
He bears the title of Defender of the Faith. His religion, his only
daughter, his son-in-law, his grandson are all especially interested
besides his own dignity, besides the common weal."

He then adverted to the large subsidies from Queen Elizabeth many years
before, guaranteed, it was true, by the cautionary towns, and to the
gallant English regiments, sent by that great sovereign, which had been
fighting so long and so splendidly in the Netherlands for the common
cause of Protestantism and liberty. Yet England was far weaker then, for
she had always her northern frontier to defend against Scotland, ever
ready to strike her in the back. "But now his Majesty," said Barneveld,
"is King of England and Scotland both. His frontier is free. Ireland is
at peace. He possesses quietly twice as much as the Queen ever did. He is
a king. Her Majesty was a woman. The King has children and heirs. His
nearest blood is engaged in this issue. His grandeur and dignity have
been wronged. Each one of these considerations demands of itself a manly
resolution. You will do your best to further it."

The almost ubiquitous power of Spain, gaining after its exhaustion new
life through the strongly developed organization of the League, and the
energy breathed into that mighty conspiracy against human liberty by the
infinite genius of the "cabinet of Jesuits," was not content with
overshadowing Germany, the Netherlands, and England, but was threatening
Savoy with 40,000 men, determined to bring Charles Emmanuel either to
perdition or submission.

Like England, France was spell-bound by the prospect of Spanish
marriages, which for her at least were not a chimera, and looked on
composedly while Savoy was on point of being sacrificed by the common
invader of independent nationality whether Protestant or Catholic.
Nothing ever showed more strikingly the force residing in singleness of
purpose with breadth and unity of design than all these primary movements
of the great war now beginning. The chances superficially considered were
vastly in favour of the Protestant cause. In the chief lands, under the
sceptre of the younger branch of Austria, the Protestants outnumbered the
Catholics by nearly ten to one. Bohemia, the Austrias, Moravia, Silesia,
Hungary were filled full of the spirit of Huss, of Luther, and even of
Calvin. If Spain was a unit, now that the Moors and Jews had been
expelled, and the heretics of Castille and Aragon burnt into submission,
she had a most lukewarm ally in Venice, whose policy was never controlled
by the Church, and a dangerous neighbour in the warlike, restless, and
adventurous House of Savoy, to whom geographical considerations were ever
more vital than religious scruples. A sincere alliance of France, the
very flower of whose nobility and people inclined to the Reformed
religion, was impossible, even if there had been fifty infantes to
espouse fifty daughters of France. Great Britain, the Netherlands, and
the united princes of Germany seemed a solid and serried phalanx of
Protestantism, to break through which should be hopeless. Yet at that
moment, so pregnant with a monstrous future, there was hardly a sound
Protestant policy anywhere but in Holland. How long would that policy
remain sound and united? How long would the Republic speak through the
imperial voice of Barneveld? Time was to show and to teach many lessons.
The united princes of Germany were walking, talking, quarrelling in their
sleep; England and France distracted and bedrugged, while Maximilian of
Bavaria and Ferdinand of Gratz, the cabinets of Madrid and the Vatican,
were moving forward to their aims slowly, steadily, relentlessly as Fate.
And Spain was more powerful than she had been since the Truce began. In
five years she had become much more capable of aggression. She had
strengthened her positions in the Mediterranean by the acquisition and
enlargement of considerable fortresses in Barbary and along a large sweep
of the African coast, so as to be almost supreme in Africa. It was
necessary for the States, the only power save Turkey that could face her
in those waters, to maintain a perpetual squadron of war ships there to
defend their commerce against attack from the Spaniard and from the
corsairs, both Mahometan and Christian, who infested every sea. Spain was
redoubtable everywhere, and the Turk, engaged in Persian campaigns, was
offering no diversion against Hungary and Vienna.

"Reasons of state worthy of his Majesty's consideration and wisdom," said
Barneveld, "forbid the King of Great Britain from permitting the Spaniard
to give the law in Italy. He is about to extort obedience and humiliation
from the Duke of Savoy, or else with 40,000 men to mortify and ruin him,
while entirely assuring himself of France by the double marriages. Then
comes the attack on these Provinces, on Protestant Germany, and all other
states and realms of the religion."

With the turn of the year, affairs were growing darker and darker. The
League was rolling up its forces in all directions; its chiefs proposed
absurd conditions of pacification, while war was already raging, and yet
scarcely any government but that of the Netherlands paid heed to the
rising storm. James, fatuous as ever, listened to Gondemar, and wrote
admonitory letters to the Archduke. It was still gravely proposed by the
Catholic party that there should be mutual disbanding in the duchies,
with a guarantee from Marquis Spinola that there should be no more
invasion of those territories. But powers and pledges from the King of
Spain were what he needed.

To suppose that the Republic and her allies would wait quietly, and not
lift a finger until blows were actually struck against the Protestant
electors or cities of Germany, was expecting too much ingenuousness on
the part of statesmen who had the interests of Protestantism at heart.
What they wanted was the signed, sealed, ratified treaty faithfully
carried out. Then if the King of Spain and the Archdukes were willing to
contract with the States never to make an attempt against the Holy German
Empire, but to leave everything to take its course according to the
constitutions, liberties, and traditions and laws of that empire, under
guidance of its electors, princes, estates, and cities, the United
Provinces were ready, under mediation of the two kings, their allies and
friends, to join in such an arrangement. Thus there might still be peace
in Germany, and religious equality as guaranteed by the "Majesty-Letter,"
and the "Compromise" between the two great churches, Roman and Reformed,
be maintained. To bring about this result was the sincere endeavour of
Barneveld, hoping against hope. For he knew that all was hollowness and
sham on the part of the great enemy. Even as Walsingham almost alone had
suspected and denounced the delusive negotiations by which Spain
continued to deceive Elizabeth and her diplomatists until the Armada was
upon her coasts, and denounced them to ears that were deafened and souls
that were stupified by the frauds practised upon them, so did Barneveld,
who had witnessed all that stupendous trickery of a generation before,
now utter his cries of warning that Germany might escape in time from her
impending doom.

"Nothing but deceit is lurking in the Spanish proposals," he said. "Every
man here wonders that the English government does not comprehend these
malversations. Truly the affair is not to be made straight by new
propositions, but by a vigorous resolution of his Majesty. It is in the
highest degree necessary to the salvation of Christendom, to the
conservation of his Majesty's dignity and greatness, to the service of
the princes and provinces, and of all Germany, nor can this vigorous
resolution be longer delayed without enormous disaster to the common weal
. . . . . I have the deepest affection for the cause of the Duke of
Savoy, but I cannot further it so long as I cannot tell what his Majesty
specifically is resolved to do, and what hope is held out from Venice,
Germany, and other quarters. Our taxes are prodigious, the ordinary and
extraordinary, and we have a Spanish army at our front door."

The armaments, already so great, had been enlarged during the last month
of the year. Vaudemont was at the head of a further force of 2000 cavalry
and 8000 foot, paid for by Spain and the Pope; 24,000 additional
soldiers, riders and infantry together, had been gathered by Maximilian
of Bavaria at the expense of the League. Even if the reports were
exaggerated, the Advocate thought it better to be too credulous than as
apathetic as the rest of the Protestants.

"We receive advices every day," he wrote to Caron, "that the Spaniards
and the Roman League are going forward with their design. They are trying
to amuse the British king and to gain time, in order to be able to deal
the heavier blows. Do all possible duty to procure a timely and vigorous
resolution there. To wait again until we are anticipated will be fatal to
the cause of the Evangelical electors and princes of Germany and
especially of his Electoral Highness of Brandenburg. We likewise should
almost certainly suffer irreparable damage, and should again bear our
cross, as men said last year in regard to Aachen, Wesel, and so many
other places. The Spaniard is sly, and has had a long time to contrive
how he can throw the net over the heads of all our religious allies.
Remember all the warnings sent from here last year, and how they were all
tossed to the winds, to the ruin of so many of our co-religionists. If it
is now intended over there to keep the Spaniards in check merely by
speeches or letters, it would be better to say so clearly to our friends.
So long as Parliament is not convoked in order to obtain consents and
subsidies for this most necessary purpose, so long I fail to believe that
this great common cause of Christendom, and especially of Germany, is
taken to heart by England."

He adverted with respectfully subdued scorn to King James's proposition
that Spinola should give a guarantee. "I doubt if he accepts the
suggestion," said Barneveld, "unless as a notorious trick, and if he did,
what good would the promise of Spinola do us? We consider Spinola a great
commander having the purses and forces of the Spaniards and the Leaguers
in his control; but should they come into other hands, he would not be a
very considerable personage for us. And that may happen any day. They
don't seem in England to understand the difference between Prince Maurice
in his relations to our state and that of Marquis Spinola to his
superiors. Try to make them comprehend it. A promise from the Emperor,
King of Spain, and the princes of the League, such as his Majesty in his
wisdom has proposed to Spinola, would be most tranquillizing for all the
Protestant princes and estates of the Empire, especially for the Elector
and Electress Palatine, and for ourselves. In such a case no difficulty
would be made on our side."

After expressing his mind thus freely in regard to James and his policy,
he then gave the Ambassador a word of caution in characteristic fashion.
"Cogita," he said, "but beware of censuring his Majesty's projects. I do
not myself mean to censure them, nor are they publicly laughed at here,
but look closely at everything that comes from Brussels, and let me know
with diligence."

And even as the Advocate was endeavouring with every effort of his skill
and reason to stir the sluggish James into vigorous resolution in behalf
of his own children, as well as of the great cause of Protestantism and
national liberty, so was he striving to bear up on his strenuous
shoulders the youthful king of France, and save him from the swollen
tides of court intrigue and Jesuitical influence fast sweeping him to
destruction.

He had denounced the recent and paltry proposition made on the part of
the League, and originally suggested by James, as a most open and
transparent trap, into which none but the blind would thrust themselves.
The Treaty of Xanten, carried out as it had been signed and guaranteed by
the great Catholic powers, would have brought peace to Christendom. To
accept in place of such guarantee the pledge of a simple soldier, who
to-morrow might be nothing, was almost too ridiculous a proposal to be
answered gravely. Yet Barneveld through the machinations of the Catholic
party was denounced both at the English and French courts as an obstacle
to peace, when in reality his powerful mind and his immense industry were
steadily directed to the noblest possible end--to bring about a solemn
engagement on the part of Spain, the Emperor, and the princes of the
League, to attack none of the Protestant powers of Germany, especially
the Elector-Palatine, but to leave the laws, liberties, and privileges of
the States within the Empire in their original condition. And among those
laws were the great statutes of 1609 and 1610, the "Majesty-Letter" and
the "Compromise," granting full right of religious worship to the
Protestants of the Kingdom of Bohemia. If ever a policy deserved to be
called truly liberal and truly conservative, it was the policy thus
steadily maintained by Barneveld.

Adverting to the subterfuge by which the Catholic party had sought to set
aside the treaty of Xanten, he instructed Langerac, the States'
ambassador in Paris, and his own pupils to make it clear to the French
government that it was impossible that in such arrangements the Spanish
armies would not be back again in the duchies at a moment's notice. It
could not be imagined even that they were acting sincerely.

"If their upright intention," he said, "is that no actual, hostile,
violent attack shall be made upon the duchies, or upon any of the
princes, estates, or cities of the Holy Empire, as is required for the
peace and tranquillity of Christendom, and if all the powers interested
therein will come into a good and solid convention to that effect. My
Lords the States will gladly join in such undertaking and bind themselves
as firmly as the other powers. If no infraction of the laws and liberties
of the Holy Empire be attempted, there will be peace for Germany and its
neighbours. But the present extravagant proposition can only lead to
chicane and quarrels. To press such a measure is merely to inflict a
disgrace upon us. It is an attempt to prevent us from helping the
Elector-Palatine and the other Protestant princes of Germany and
coreligionists everywhere against hostile violence. For the
Elector-Palatine can receive aid from us and from Great Britain through
the duchies only. It is plainly the object of the enemy to seclude us
from the Palatine and the rest of Protestant Germany. It is very
suspicious that the proposition of Prince Maurice, supported by the two
kings and the united princes of Germany, has been rejected."

The Advocate knew well enough that the religious franchises granted by
the House of Habsburg at the very moment in which Spain signed her peace
with the Netherlands, and exactly as the mad duke of Cleve was
expiring--with a dozen princes, Catholic and Protestant, to dispute his
inheritance--would be valuable just so long as they could be maintained
by the united forces of Protestantism and of national independence and no
longer. What had been extorted from the Catholic powers by force would be
retracted by force whenever that force could be concentrated. It had been
necessary for the Republic to accept a twelve years' truce with Spain in
default of a peace, while the death of John of Cleve, and subsequently of
Henry IV., had made the acquisition of a permanent pacification between
Catholicism and Protestantism, between the League and the Union, more
difficult than ever. The so-called Thirty Years' War--rather to be called
the concluding portion of the Eighty Years' War--had opened in the
debateable duchies exactly at the moment when its forerunner, the forty
years' war of the Netherlands, had been temporarily and nominally
suspended. Barneveld was perpetually baffled in his efforts to obtain a
favourable peace for Protestant Europe, less by the open diplomacy and
military force of the avowed enemies of Protestantism than by the secret
intrigues and faintheartedness of its nominal friends. He was unwearied
in his efforts simultaneously to arouse the courts of England and France
to the danger to Europe from the overshadowing power of the House of
Austria and the League, and he had less difficulty in dealing with the
Catholic Lewis and his mother than with Protestant James. At the present
moment his great designs were not yet openly traversed by a strong
Protestant party within the very republic which he administered.

"Look to it with earnestness and grave deliberation," he said to
Langerac, "that they do not pursue us there with vain importunity to
accept something so notoriously inadmissible and detrimental to the
common weal. We know that from the enemy's side every kind of unseemly
trick is employed, with the single object of bringing about
misunderstanding between us and the King of France. A prompt and vigorous
resolution on the part of his Majesty, to see the treaty which we made
duly executed, would be to help the cause. Otherwise, not. We cannot here
believe that his Majesty, in this first year of his majority, will submit
to such a notorious and flagrant affront, or that he will tolerate the
oppression of the Duke of Savoy. Such an affair in the beginning of his
Majesty's reign cannot but have very great and prejudicial consequences,
nor can it be left to linger on in uncertainty and delay. Let him be
prompt in this. Let him also take a most Christian--kingly, vigorous
resolution against the great affront put upon him in the failure to carry
out the treaty. Such a resolve on the part of the two kings would restore
all things to tranquillity and bring the Spaniard and his adherents 'in
terminos modestiae. But so long as France is keeping a suspicious eye
upon England, and England upon France, everything will run to combustion,
detrimental to their Majesties and to us, and ruinous to all the good
inhabitants."

To the Treaty of Xanten faithfully executed he held as to an anchor in
the tempest until it was torn away, not by violence from without, but by
insidious mutiny within. At last the government of James proposed that
the pledges on leaving the territory should be made to the two allied
kings as mediators and umpires. This was better than the naked promises
originally suggested, but even in this there was neither heartiness nor
sincerity. Meantime the Prince of Neuburg, negotiations being broken off,
departed for Germany, a step which the Advocate considered ominous. Soon
afterwards that prince received a yearly pension of 24,000 crowns from
Spain, and for this stipend his claims on the sovereignty of the duchies
were supposed to be surrendered.

"If this be true," said Barneveld, "we have been served with covered
dishes."

The King of England wrote spirited and learned letters to the
Elector-Palatine, assuring him of his father-in-law's assistance in case
he should be attacked by the League. Sir Henry Wotton, then on special
mission at the Hague, showed these epistles to Barneveld.

"When I hear that Parliament has been assembled and has granted great
subsidies," was the Advocate's comment, "I shall believe that effects may
possibly follow from all these assurances."

It was wearisome for the Advocate thus ever to be foiled; by the
pettinesses and jealousies of those occupying the highest earthly places,
in his efforts to stem the rising tide of Spanish and Catholic
aggression, and to avert the outbreak of a devastating war to which he
saw Europe doomed. It may be wearisome to read the record. Yet it is the
chronicle of Christendom during one of the most important and fateful
epochs of modern history. No man can thoroughly understand the
complication and precession of phenomena attending the disastrous dawn of
the renewed war, on an even more awful scale than the original conflict
in the Netherlands, without studying the correspondence of Barneveld. The
history of Europe is there. The fate of Christendom is there. The
conflict of elements, the crash of contending forms of religion and of
nationalities, is pictured there in vivid if homely colours. The
Advocate, while acting only in the name of a slender confederacy, was in
truth, so long as he held his place, the prime minister of European
Protestantism. There was none other to rival him, few to comprehend him,
fewer still to sustain him. As Prince Maurice was at that moment the
great soldier of Protestantism without clearly scanning the grandeur of
the field in which he was a chief actor, or foreseeing the vastness of
its future, so the Advocate was its statesman and its prophet. Could the
two have worked together as harmoniously as they had done at an earlier
day, it would have been a blessing for the common weal of Europe. But,
alas! the evil genius of jealousy, which so often forbids cordial
relations between soldier and statesman, already stood shrouded in the
distance, darkly menacing the strenuous patriot, who was wearing his life
out in exertions for what he deemed the true cause of progress and
humanity.

Nor can the fate of the man himself, his genuine character, and the
extraordinary personal events towards which he was slowly advancing, be
accurately unfolded without an attempt by means of his letters to lay
bare his inmost thoughts. Especially it will be seen at a later moment
how much value was attached to this secret correspondence with the
ambassadors in London and Paris.

The Advocate trusted to the support of France, Papal and Medicean as the
court of the young king was, because the Protestant party throughout the
kingdom was too powerful, warlike, and numerous to be trifled with, and
because geographical considerations alone rendered a cordial alliance
between Spain and France very difficult. Notwithstanding the Spanish
marriages, which he opposed so long as opposition was possible, he knew
that so long as a statesman remained in the kingdom, or a bone for one
existed, the international policy of Henry, of Sully, and of Jeannin
could not be wholly abandoned.

He relied much on Villeroy, a political hack certainly, an ancient
Leaguer, and a Papist, but a man too cool, experienced, and wily to be
ignorant of the very hornbook of diplomacy, or open to the shallow
stratagems by which Spain found it so easy to purchase or to deceive. So
long as he had a voice in the council, it was certain that the Netherland
alliance would not be abandoned, nor the Duke of Savoy crushed. The old
secretary of state was not especially in favour at that moment, but
Barneveld could not doubt his permanent place in French affairs until
some man of real power should arise there. It was a dreary period of
barrenness and disintegration in that kingdom while France was mourning
Henry and waiting for Richelieu.

The Dutch ambassador at Paris was instructed accordingly to maintain.
good relations with Villeroy, who in Barneveld's opinion had been a
constant and sincere friend to the Netherlands. "Don't forget to caress
the old gentleman you wot of," said the Advocate frequently, but
suppressing his name, "without troubling yourself with the reasons
mentioned in your letter. I am firmly convinced that he will overcome all
difficulties. Don't believe either that France will let the Duke of Savoy
be ruined. It is against every reason of State." Yet there were few to
help Charles Emmanuel in this Montferrat war, which was destined to drag
feebly on, with certain interludes of negotiations, for two years longer.
The already notorious condottiere Ernest Mansfeld, natural son of old
prince Peter Ernest, who played so long and so high a part in command of
the Spanish armies in the Netherlands, had, to be sure, taken service
under the Duke. Thenceforth he was to be a leader and a master in that
wild business of plunder, burning, blackmailing, and murder, which was
opening upon Europe, and was to afford occupation for many thousands of
adventurers of high and low degree.

Mansfeld, reckless and profligate, had already changed his banner more
than once. Commanding a company under Leopold in the duchies, he had been
captured by the forces of the Union, and, after waiting in vain to be
ransomed by the Archduke, had gone secretly over to the enemy. Thus
recovering his liberty, he had enlisted a regiment under Leopold's name
to fight the Union, and had then, according to contract, transferred
himself and most of his adventurers to the flag of the Union. The
military operations fading away in the duchies without being succeeded by
permanent peace, the Count, as he was called, with no particular claim to
such title, had accepted a thousand florins a year as retainer from the
Union and had found occupation under Charles Emmanuel. Here the Spanish
soldier of a year or two before found much satisfaction and some profit
in fighting Spanish soldiers. He was destined to reappear in the
Netherlands, in France, in Bohemia, in many places where there were
villages to be burned, churches to be plundered, cities to be sacked,
nuns and other women to be outraged, dangerous political intrigues to be
managed. A man in the prime of his age, fair-haired, prematurely
wrinkled, battered, and hideous of visage, with a hare-lip and a
humpback; slovenly of dress, and always wearing an old grey hat without a
band to it; audacious, cruel, crafty, and licentious--such was Ernest
Mansfeld, whom some of his contemporaries spoke of as Ulysses Germanicus,
others as the new Attila, all as a scourge to the human race. The
cockneys of Paris called him "Machefer," and nurses long kept children
quiet by threatening them with that word. He was now enrolled on the
Protestant side, although at the moment serving Savoy against Spain in a
question purely personal. His armies, whether in Italy or in Germany,
were a miscellaneous collection of adventurers of high and low degree, of
all religions, of all countries, unfrocked priests and students, ruined
nobles, bankrupt citizens, street vagabonds--earliest type perhaps of the
horrible military vermin which were destined to feed so many years long
on the unfortunate dismembered carcass of Germany.

Many demands had been made upon the States for assistance to Savoy,--as
if they and they alone were to bear the brunt and pay the expense of all
the initiatory campaigns against Spain.

"We are much importuned," said the Advocate, "to do something for the
help of Savoy . . . . We wish and we implore that France, Great Britain,
the German princes, the Venetians, and the Swiss would join us in some
scheme of effective assistance. But we have enough on our shoulders at
this moment."

They had hardly money enough in their exchequer, admirably ordered as it
was, for enterprises so far from home when great Spanish armies were
permanently encamped on their border.

Partly to humour King James and partly from love of adventure, Count John
of Nassau had gone to Savoy at the head of a small well disciplined body
of troops furnished by the States.

"Make use of this piece of news," said Barneveld, communicating the fact
to Langerac, "opportunely and with discretion. Besides the wish to give
some contentment to the King of Great Britain, we consider it
inconsistent with good conscience and reasons of state to refuse help to
a great prince against oppression by those who mean to give the law to
everybody; especially as we have been so earnestly and frequently
importuned to do so."

And still the Spaniards and the League kept their hold on the duchies,
while their forces, their munitions, their accumulation of funds waged
hourly. The war of chicane was even more deadly than an actual campaign,
for when there was no positive fighting the whole world seemed against
the Republic. And the chicane was colossal.

"We cannot understand," said Barneveld, "why M. de Prevaulx is coming
here on special mission. When a treaty is signed and sealed, it only
remains to execute it. The Archduke says he is himself not known in the
treaty, and that nothing can be demanded of him in relation to it. This
he says in his letters to the King of Great Britain. M. de Refuge knows
best whether or not Marquis Spinola, Ottavio Visconti, Chancellor
Pecquius, and others, were employed in the negotiation by the Archduke.
We know very well here that the whole business was conducted by them. The
Archduke is willing to give a clean and sincere promise not to re-occupy,
and asks the same from the States. If he were empowered by the Emperor,
the King of Spain, and the League, and acted in such quality, something
might be done for the tranquillity of Germany. But he promises for
himself only, and Emperor, King, or League, may send any general to do
what they like to-morrow. What is to prevent it?

"And so My Lords the States, the Elector of Brandenburg, and others
interested are cheated and made fools of. And we are as much troubled by
these tricks as by armed force. Yes, more; for we know that great
enterprises are preparing this year against Germany and ourselves, that
all Neuburg's troops have been disbanded and re-enlisted under the
Spanish commanders, and that forces are levying not only in Italy and
Spain, but in Germany, Lorraine, Luxemburg, and Upper Burgundy, and that
Wesel has been stuffed full of gunpowder and other munitions, and very
strongly fortified."

For the States to agree to a treaty by which the disputed duchies should
be held jointly by the Princes of Neuburg and of Brandenburg, and the
territory be evacuated by all foreign troops; to look quietly on while
Neuburg converted himself to Catholicism, espoused the sister of
Maximilian of Bavaria, took a pension from Spain, resigned his claims in
favour of Spain, and transferred his army to Spain; and to expect that
Brandenburg and all interested in Brandenburg, that is to say, every
Protestant in Europe, should feel perfectly easy under such arrangement
and perfectly protected by the simple promise of a soldier of fortune
against Catholic aggression, was a fantastic folly hardly worthy of a
child. Yet the States were asked to accept this position, Brandenburg and
all Protestant Germany were asked to accept it, and Barneveld was howled
at by his allies as a marplot and mischief-maker, and denounced and
insulted by diplomatists daily, because he mercilessly tore away the
sophistries of the League and of the League's secret friend, James
Stuart.

The King of Spain had more than 100,000 men under arms, and was enlisting
more soldiers everywhere and every day, had just deposited 4,000,000
crowns with his Antwerp bankers for a secret purpose, and all the time
was exuberant in his assurances of peace. One would have thought that
there had never been negotiations in Bourbourg, that the Spanish Armada
had never sailed from Coruna.

"You are wise and prudent in France," said the Advocate, "but we are used
to Spanish proceedings, and from much disaster sustained are filled with
distrust. The King of England seems now to wish that the Archduke should
draw up a document according to his good pleasure, and that the States
should make an explanatory deed, which the King should sign also and ask
the King of France to do the same. But this is very hazardous.

"We do not mean to receive laws from the King of Spain, nor the Archduke
. . . . The Spanish proceedings do not indicate peace but war. One must
not take it ill of us that we think these matters of grave importance to
our friends and ourselves. Affairs have changed very much in the last
four months. The murder of the first vizier of the Turkish emperor and
his designs against Persia leave the Spanish king and the Emperor free
from attack in that quarter, and their armaments are far greater than
last year . . . . I cannot understand why the treaty of Xanten, formerly
so highly applauded, should now be so much disapproved. . . . The King of
Spain and the Emperor with their party have a vast design to give the law
to all Christendom, to choose a Roman king according to their will, to
reduce the Evangelical electors, princes, and estates of Germany to
obedience, to subject all Italy, and, having accomplished this, to
proceed to triumph over us and our allies, and by necessary consequence
over France and England. They say they have established the Emperor's
authority by means of Aachen and Mulheim, will soon have driven us out of
Julich, and have thus arranged matters entirely to their heart's content.
They can then, in name of the Emperor, the League, the Prince of Neuburg,
or any one else, make themselves in eight days masters of the places
which they are now imaginarily to leave as well as of those which we are
actually to surrender, and by possession of which we could hold out a
long time against all their power."

Those very places held by the States--Julich, Emmerich, and others--had
recently been fortified at much expense, under the superintendence of
Prince Maurice, and by advice of the Advocate. It would certainly be an
act of madness to surrender them on the terms proposed. These warnings
and forebodings of Barneveld sound in our ears like recorded history, yet
they were far earlier than the actual facts. And now to please the
English king, the States had listened to his suggestion that his name and
that of the King of France should be signed as mediators to a new
arrangement proposed in lieu of the Xanten treaty. James had suggested
this, Lewis had agreed to it. Yet before the ink had dried in James's
pen, he was proposing that the names of the mediating sovereigns should
be omitted from the document? And why? Because Gondemar was again
whispering in his ear. "They are renewing the negotiations in England,"
said the Advocate, "about the alliance between the Prince of Wales and
the second daughter of Spain; and the King of Great Britain is seriously
importuning us that the Archdukes and My Lords the States should make
their pledges 'impersonaliter' and not to the kings." James was also
willing that the name of the Emperor should appear upon it. To prevent
this, Barneveld would have had himself burned at the stake. It would be
an ignominious and unconditional surrender of the whole cause.

"The Archduke will never be contented," said the Advocate, "unless his
Majesty of Great Britain takes a royal resolution to bring him to reason.
That he tries to lay the fault on us is pure malice. We have been ready
and are still ready to execute the treaty of Xanten. The Archduke is the
cause of the dispute concerning the act. We approved the formularies of
their Majesties, and have changed them three times to suit the King of
Great Britain. Our Provincial States have been notified in the matter, so
that we can no longer digest the Spanish impudence, and are amazed that
his Majesty can listen any more to the Spanish ministers. We fear that
those ministers are working through many hands, in order by one means or
another to excite quarrels between his Majesty, us, and the respective
inhabitants of the two countries . . . . . Take every precaution that no
attempt be made there to bring the name of the Emperor into the act. This
would be contrary to their Majesties' first resolution, very prejudicial
to the Elector of Brandenburg, to the duchies, and to ourselves. And it
is indispensable that the promise be made to the two kings as mediators,
as much for their reputation and dignity as for the interests of the
Elector, the territories, and ourselves. Otherwise too the Spaniards will
triumph over us as if they had driven us by force of arms into this
promise."

The seat of war, at the opening of the apparently inevitable conflict
between the Catholic League and the Protestant Union, would be those
debateable duchies, those border provinces, the possession of which was
of such vital importance to each of the great contending parties, and the
populations of which, although much divided, were on the whole more
inclined to the League than to the Union. It was natural enough that the
Dutch statesman should chafe at the possibility of their being lost to
the Union through the adroitness of the Catholic managers and the
supineness of the great allies of the Republic.

Three weeks later than these last utterances of the Advocate, he was
given to understand that King James was preparing to slide away from the
position which had been three times changed to make it suitable for him.
His indignation was hot.

"Sir Henry Wotton," he said, "has communicated to me his last despatches
from Newmarket. I am in the highest degree amazed that after all our
efforts at accommodation, with so much sacrifice to the electors, the
provinces, and ourselves, they are trying to urge us there to consent
that the promise be not made to the Kings of France and Great Britain as
mediators, although the proposition came from the Spanish side. After we
had renounced, by desire of his Majesty, the right to refer the promise
to the Treaty of Xanten, it was judged by both kings to be needful and
substantial that the promise be made to their Majesties. To change this
now would be prejudicial to the kings, to the electors, the duchies, and
to our commonwealth; to do us a wrong and to leave us naked. France
maintains her position as becoming and necessary. That Great Britain
should swerve from it is not to be digested here. You will do your utmost
according to my previous instructions to prevent any pressure to this
end. You will also see that the name of the Emperor is mentioned neither
in the preamble nor the articles of the treaty. It would be contrary to
all our policy since 1610. You may be firmly convinced that malice is
lurking under the Emperor's name, and that he and the King of Spain and
their adherents, now as before, are attempting a sequestration. This is
simply a pretext to bring those principalities and provinces into the
hands of the Spaniards, for which they have been labouring these thirty
years. We are constantly cheated by these Spanish tricks. Their intention
is to hold Wesel and all the other places until the conclusion of the
Italian affair, and then to strike a great blow."

Certainly were never words more full of sound statesmanship, and of
prophecy too soon to be fulfilled, than these simple but pregnant
warnings. They awakened but little response from the English government
save cavils and teasing reminders that Wesel had been the cradle of
German Calvinism, the Rhenish Geneva, and that it was sinful to leave it
longer in the hands of Spain. As if the Advocate had not proved to
demonstration that to stock hands for a new deal at that moment was to
give up the game altogether.

His influence in France was always greater than in England, and this had
likewise been the case with William the Silent. And even now that the
Spanish matrimonial alliance was almost a settled matter at the French
court, while with the English king it was but a perpetual will-o'the-wisp
conducting to quagmires ineffable, the government at Paris sustained the
policy of the Advocate with tolerable fidelity, while it was constantly
and most capriciously traversed by James.

Barneveld sighed over these approaching nuptials, but did not yet
despair. "We hope that the Spanish-French marriages," he said, "may be
broken up of themselves; but we fear that if we should attempt to delay
or prevent them authoritatively, or in conjunction with others, the
effort would have the contrary effect."

In this certainly he was doomed to disappointment.

He had already notified the French court of the absolute necessity of the
great points to be insisted upon in the treaty, and there he found more
docility than in London or Newmarket.

All summer he was occupied with this most important matter, uttering
Cassandra-like warnings into ears wilfully deaf. The States had gone as
far as possible in concession. To go farther would be to wreck the great
cause upon the very quicksands which he had so ceaselessly pointed out.
"We hope that nothing further will be asked of us, no scruples be felt as
to our good intentions," he said, "and that if Spain and the Archdukes
are not ready now to fulfil the treaty, their Majesties will know how to
resent this trifling with their authority and dignity, and how to set
matters to rights with their own hands in the duchies. A new treaty,
still less a sequestration, is not to be thought of for a moment."

Yet the month of August came and still the names of the mediating kings
were not on the treaty, and still the spectre of sequestration had not
been laid. On the contrary, the peace of Asti, huddled up between Spain
and Savoy, to be soon broken again, had caused new and painful
apprehensions of an attempt at sequestration, for it was established by
several articles in that treaty that all questions between Savoy and
Mantua should be referred to the Emperor's decision. This precedent was
sure to be followed in the duchies if not resisted by force, as it had
been so successfully resisted five years before by the armies of the
States associated with those of France. Moreover the first step at
sequestration had been actually taken. The Emperor had peremptorily
summoned the Elector of Brandenburg and all other parties interested to
appear before him on the 1st of August in Prague. There could be but one
object in this citation, to drive Brandenburg and the States out of the
duchies until the Imperial decision as to the legitimate sovereignty
should be given. Neuburg being already disposed of and his claims ceded
to the Emperor, what possibility was there in such circumstances of
saving one scrap of the territory from the clutch of the League? None
certainly if the Republic faltered in its determination, and yielded to
the cowardly advice of James. "To comply with the summons," said
Barneveld, "and submit to its consequences will be an irreparable injury
to the electoral house of Brandenburg, to the duchies, and to our
co-religionists everywhere, and a very great disgrace to both their
Majesties and to us."

He continued, through the ambassador in London, to hold up to the King,
in respectful but plain language, the shamelessness of his conduct in
dispensing the enemy from his pledge to the mediators, when the Republic
expressly, in deference to James, had given up the ampler guarantees of
the treaty. The arrangement had been solemnly made, and consented to by
all the provinces, acting in their separate and sovereign capacity. Such
a radical change, even if it were otherwise permissible, could not be
made without long debates, consultations, and votes by the several
states. What could be more fatal at such a crisis than this childish and
causeless delay. There could be no doubt in any statesman's eyes that the
Spanish party meant war and a preparatory hoodwinking. And it was even
worse for the government of the Republic to be outwitted in diplomacy
than beaten in the field.

"Every man here," said the Advocate, "has more apprehension of fraud than
of force. According to the constitution of our state, to be overcome by
superior power must be endured, but to be overreached by trickery is a
reproach to the government."

The summer passed away. The States maintained their positions in the
duchies, notwithstanding the objurgations of James, and Barneveld
remained on his watch-tower observing every movement of the
fast-approaching war, and refusing at the price of the whole territory in
dispute to rescue Wesel and Aix-la-Chapelle from the grasp of the League.

Caron came to the Hague to have personal consultations with the
States-General, the Advocate, and Prince Maurice, and returned before the
close of the year. He had an audience of the King at the palace of
Whitehall early in November, and found him as immovable as ever in his
apathetic attitude in regard to the affairs of Germany. The murder of Sir
Thomas Overbury and the obscene scandals concerning the King's beloved
Carr and his notorious bride were then occupying the whole attention of
the monarch, so that he had not even time for theological lucubrations,
still less for affairs of state on which the peace of Christendom and the
fate of his own children were hanging.

The Ambassador found him sulky and dictatorial, but insisted on
expressing once more to him the apprehensions felt by the States-General
in regard to the trickery of the Spanish party in the matter of Cleve and
Julich. He assured his Majesty that they had no intention of maintaining
the Treaty of Xanten, and respectfully requested that the King would no
longer urge the States to surrender the places held by them. It was a
matter of vital importance to retain them, he said.

"Sir Henry Wotton told me," replied James, "that the States at his
arrival were assembled to deliberate on this matter, and he had no doubt
that they would take a resolution in conformity with my intention. Now I
see very well that you don't mean to give up the places. If I had known
that before, I should not have warned the Archduke so many times, which I
did at the desire of the States themselves. And now that the Archdukes
are ready to restore their cities, you insist on holding yours. That is
the dish you set before me."

And upon this James swore a mighty oath, and beat himself upon the
breast.

"Now and nevermore will I trouble myself about the States' affairs, come
what come will," he continued. "I have always been upright in my words
and my deeds, and I am not going to embark myself in a wicked war because
the States have plunged themselves into one so entirely unjust. Next
summer the Spaniard means to divide himself into two or three armies in
order to begin his enterprises in Germany."

Caron respectfully intimated that these enterprises would be most
conveniently carried on from the very advantageous positions which he
occupied in the duchies. "No," said the King, "he must restore them on
the same day on which you make your surrender, and he will hardly come
back in a hurry."

"Quite the contrary," said the Ambassador, "they will be back again in a
twinkling, and before we have the slightest warning of their intention."

But it signified not the least what Caron said. The King continued to
vociferate that the States had never had any intention of restoring the
cities.

"You mean to keep them for yourselves," he cried, "which is the greatest
injustice that could be perpetrated. You have no right to them, and they
belong to other people."

The Ambassador reminded him that the Elector of Brandenburg was well
satisfied that they should be occupied by the States for his greater
security and until the dispute should be concluded.

"And that will never be," said James; "never, never. The States are
powerful enough to carry on the war all alone and against all the world."

And so he went on, furiously reiterating the words with which he had
begun the conversation, "without accepting any reasons whatever in
payment," as poor Caron observed.

"It makes me very sad," said the Ambassador, "to find your Majesty so
impatient and so resolved. If the names of the kings are to be omitted
from the document, the Treaty of Xanten should at least be modified
accordingly."

"Nothing of the kind," said James; "I don't understand it so at all. I
speak plainly and without equivocation. It must be enough for the States
that I promise them, in case the enemy is cheating or is trying to play
any trick whatever, or is seeking to break the Treaty of Xanten in a
single point, to come to their assistance in person."

And again the warlike James swore a big oath and smote his breast,
affirming that he meant everything sincerely; that he cheated no one, but
always spoke his thoughts right on, clearly and uprightly.

It was certainly not a cheerful prospect for the States. Their chief ally
was determined that they should disarm, should strip themselves naked,
when the mightiest conspiracy against the religious freedom and
international independence of Europe ever imagined was perfecting itself
before their eyes, and when hostile armies, more numerous than ever
before known, were at their very door. To wait until the enemy was at
their throat, and then to rely upon a king who trembled at the sight of a
drawn sword, was hardly the highest statesmanship. Even if it had been
the chivalrous Henry instead of the pacific James that had held out the
promise of help, they would have been mad to follow such counsel.

The conversation lasted more than an hour. It was in vain that Caron
painted in dark colours the cruel deeds done by the Spaniards in Mulheim
and Aachen, and the proceedings of the Archbishop of Cologne in Rees. The
King was besotted, and no impression could be made upon him.

"At any rate," said the Envoy, "the arrangement cannot be concluded
without the King of France."

"What excuse is that?" said James. "Now that the King is entirely
Spanish, you are trying to excuse your delays by referring to him. You
have deferred rescuing the poor city of Wesel from the hands of the
Spaniard long enough. I am amazed to have heard never a word from you on
that subject since your departure. I had expressed my wish to you clearly
enough that you should inform the States of my intention to give them any
assurance they chose to demand."

Caron was much disappointed at the humour of his Majesty. Coming freshly
as he did from the council of the States, and almost from the seat of
war, he had hoped to convince and content him. But the King was very
angry with the States for putting him so completely in the wrong. He had
also been much annoyed at their having failed to notify him of their
military demonstration in the Electorate of Cologne to avenge the
cruelties practised upon the Protestants there. He asked Caron if he was
instructed to give him information regarding it. Being answered in the
negative, he said he had thought himself of sufficient importance to the
States and enough in their confidence to be apprised of their military
movements. It was for this, he said, that his ambassador sat in their
council. Caron expressed the opinion that warlike enterprises of the kind
should be kept as secret as possible in order to be successful. This the
King disputed, and loudly declared his vexation at being left in
ignorance of the matter. The Ambassador excused himself as well as he
could, on the ground that he had been in Zealand when the troops were
marching, but told the King his impression that they had been sent to
chastise the people of Cologne for their cruelty in burning and utterly
destroying the city of Mulheim.

"That is none of your affair," said the King.

"Pardon me, your Majesty," replied Caron, "they are our fellow
religionists, and some one at least ought to resent the cruelty practised
upon them."

The King admitted that the destruction of the city had been an
unheard--of cruelty, and then passed on to speak of the quarrel between
the Duke and City of Brunswick, and other matters. The interview ended,
and the Ambassador, very downhearted, went to confer with the Secretary
of State Sir Ralph Winwood, and Sir Henry Wotton.

He assured these gentlemen that without fully consulting the French
government these radical changes in the negotiations would never be
consented to by the States. Winwood promised to confer at once with the
French ambassador, admitting it to be impossible for the King to take up
this matter alone. He would also talk with the Archduke's ambassador next
day noon at dinner, who was about leaving for Brussels, and "he would put
something into his hand that he might take home with him."

"When he is fairly gone," said Caron, "it is to be hoped that the King's
head will no longer be so muddled about these things. I wish it with all
my heart."

It was a dismal prospect for the States. The one ally on whom they had a
right to depend, the ex-Calvinist and royal Defender of the Faith, in
this mortal combat of Protestantism with the League, was slipping out of
their grasp with distracting lubricity. On the other hand, the Most
Christian King, a boy of fourteen years, was still in the control of a
mother heart and soul with the League--so far as she had heart or
soul--was betrothed to the daughter of Spain, and saw his kingdom torn to
pieces and almost literally divided among themselves by rebellious
princes, who made use of the Spanish marriages as a pretext for unceasing
civil war.

The Queen-Mother was at that moment at Bordeaux, and an emissary from the
princes was in London. James had sent to offer his mediation between them
and the Queen. He was fond of mediation. He considered it his special
mission in the world to mediate. He imagined himself as looked up to by
the nations as the great arbitrator of Christendom, and was wont to issue
his decrees as if binding in force and infallible by nature. He had
protested vigorously against the Spanish-French marriages, and declared
that the princes were justified in formalizing an opposition to them, at
least until affairs in France were restored to something like order. He
warned the Queen against throwing the kingdom "into the combustion of war
without necessity," and declared that, if she would trust to his
guidance, she might make use of him as if her affairs were his own. An
indispensable condition for much assistance, however, would be that the
marriages should be put off.

As James was himself pursuing a Spanish marriage for his son as the chief
end and aim of his existence, there was something almost humorous in this
protest to the Queen-Dowager and in his encouragement of mutiny in France
in order to prevent a catastrophe there which he desired at home.

The same agent of the princes, de Monbaran by name, was also privately
accredited by them to the States with instructions to borrow 200,000
crowns of them if he could. But so long as the policy of the Republic was
directed by Barneveld, it was not very probable that, while maintaining
friendly and even intimate relations with the legitimate government, she
would enter into negotiations with rebels against it, whether princes or
plebeians, and oblige them with loans. "He will call on me soon, no
doubt," said Caron, "but being so well instructed as to your Mightinesses
intentions in this matter, I hope I shall keep him away from you."
Monbaran was accordingly kept away, but a few weeks later another
emissary of Conde and Bouillon made his appearance at the Hague, de
Valigny by name. He asked for money and for soldiers to reinforce
Bouillon's city of Sedan, but he was refused an audience of the
States-General. Even the martial ardour of Maurice and his sympathy for
his relatives were cooled by this direct assault on his pocket. "The
Prince," wrote the French ambassador, du Maurier, "will not furnish him
or his adherents a thousand crowns, not if they had death between their
teeth. Those who think it do not know how he loves his money."

In the very last days of the year (1615) Caron had another interview with
the King in which James was very benignant. He told the Ambassador that
he should wish the States to send him some special commissioners to make
a new treaty with him, and to treat of all unsettled affairs which were
daily arising between the inhabitants of the respective countries. He
wished to make a firmer union and accord between Great Britain and the
Netherlands. He was very desirous of this, "because," said he, "if we can
unite with and understand each other, we have under God no one what ever
to fear, however mighty they may be."

Caron duly notified Barneveld of these enthusiastic expressions of his
Majesty. The Advocate too was most desirous of settling the troublesome
questions about the cloth trade, the piracies, and other matters, and was
in favour of the special commission. In regard to a new treaty of
alliance thus loosely and vaguely suggested, he was not so sanguine
however. He had too much difficulty in enforcing the interests of
Protestantism in the duchies against the infatuation of James in regard
to Spain, and he was too well aware of the Spanish marriage delusion,
which was the key to the King's whole policy, to put much faith in these
casual outbursts of eternal friendship with the States. He contented
himself therefore with cautioning Caron to pause before committing
himself to any such projects. He had frequently instructed him, however,
to bring the disputed questions to his Majesty's notice as often as
possible with a view to amicable arrangement.

This preventive policy in regard to France was highly approved by
Barneveld, who was willing to share in the blame profusely heaped upon
such sincere patriots and devoted Protestants as Duplessis-Mornay and
others, who saw small advantage to the great cause from a mutiny against
established government, bad as it was, led by such intriguers as Conde
and Bouillon. Men who had recently been in the pay of Spain, and one of
whom had been cognizant of Biron's plot against the throne and life of
Henry IV., to whom sedition was native atmosphere and daily bread, were
not likely to establish a much more wholesome administration than that of
Mary de' Medici. Prince Maurice sympathized with his relatives by
marriage, who were leading the civil commotions in France and
endeavouring to obtain funds in the Netherlands. It is needless to say
that Francis Aerssens was deep in their intrigues, and feeding full the
grudge which the Stadholder already bore the Advocate for his policy on
this occasion.

The Advocate thought it best to wait until the young king should himself
rise in mutiny against his mother and her minions. Perhaps the downfall
of the Concini's and their dowager and the escape of Lewis from thraldom
might not be so distant as it seemed. Meantime this was the legal
government, bound to the States by treaties of friendship and alliance,
and it would be a poor return for the many favours and the constant aid
bestowed by Henry IV. on the Republic, and an imbecile mode of avenging
his murder to help throw his kingdom into bloodshed and confusion before
his son was able to act for himself. At the same time he did his best to
cultivate amicable relations with the princes, while scrupulously
abstaining from any sympathy with their movements. "If the Prince and the
other gentlemen come to court," he wrote to Langerac, "you will treat
them with all possible caresses so far as can be done without disrespect
to the government."

While the British court was occupied with the foul details of the
Overbury murder and its consequences, a crime of a more commonplace
nature, but perhaps not entirely without influence on great political
events, had startled the citizens of the Hague. It was committed in the
apartments of the Stadholder and almost under his very eyes. A jeweller
of Amsterdam, one John van Wely, had come to the court of Maurice to lay
before him a choice collection of rare jewellery. In his caskets were
rubies and diamonds to the value of more than 100,000 florins, which
would be the equivalent of perhaps ten times as much to-day. In the
Prince's absence the merchant was received by a confidential groom of the
chambers, John of Paris by name, and by him, with the aid of a third
John, a soldier of his Excellency's guard, called Jean de la Vigne,
murdered on the spot. The deed was done in the Prince's private study.
The unfortunate jeweller was shot, and to make sure was strangled with
the blue riband of the Order of the Garter recently conferred upon
Maurice, and which happened to be lying conspicuously in the room.

The ruffians had barely time to take possession of the booty, to thrust
the body behind the tapestry of the chamber, and to remove the more
startling evidences of the crime, when the Prince arrived. He supped soon
afterwards in the same room, the murdered jeweller still lying behind the
arras. In the night the valet and soldier carried the corpse away from
the room, down the stairs, and through the great courtyard, where,
strange to say, no sentinels were on duty, and threw it into an ashpit.

A deed so bloody, audacious, and stupid was of course soon discovered and
the murderers arrested and executed. Nothing would remove the incident
from the catalogue of vulgar crimes, or even entitle it to a place in
history save a single circumstance. The celebrated divine John
Uytenbogaert, leader among the Arminians, devoted friend of Barneveld,
and up to that moment the favorite preacher of Maurice, stigmatized
indeed, as we have seen, by the orthodox as "Court Trumpeter," was
requested by the Prince to prepare the chief criminal for death. He did
so, and from that day forth the Stadholder ceased to be his friend,
although regularly listening to his preaching in the French chapel of the
court for more than a year longer. Some time afterwards the Advocate
informed Uytenbogaert that the Prince was very much embittered against
him. "I knew it well," says the clergyman in his memoirs, "but not the
reasons for it, nor do I exactly comprehend them to this day. Truly I
have some ideas relating to certain things which I was obliged to do in
discharge of my official duty, but I will not insist upon them, nor will
I reveal them to any man."

These were mysterious words, and the mystery is said to have been
explained; for it would seem that the eminent preacher was not so
entirely reticent among his confidential friends as before the public.
Uytenbogaert--so ran the tale--in the course of his conversation with the
condemned murderer, John of Paris, expressed a natural surprise that
there should have been no soldiers on guard in the court on the evening
when the crime was committed and the body subsequently removed. The valet
informed him that he had for a long time been empowered by the Prince to
withdraw the sentinels from that station, and that they had been
instructed to obey his orders--Maurice not caring that they should be
witnesses to the equivocal kind of female society that John of Paris was
in the habit of introducing of an evening to his master's apartments. The
valet had made use of this privilege on the night in question to rid
himself of the soldiers who would have been otherwise on guard.

The preacher felt it his duty to communicate these statements to the
Prince, and to make perhaps a somewhat severe comment upon them. Maurice
received the information sullenly, and, as soon as Uytenbogaert was gone,
fell into a violent passion, throwing his hat upon the floor, stamping
upon it, refusing to eat his supper, and allowing no one to speak to him.
Next day some courtiers asked the clergyman what in the world he had been
saying to the Stadholder.

From that time forth his former partiality for the divine, on whose
preaching he had been a regular attendant, was changed to hatred; a
sentiment which lent a lurid colour to subsequent events.

The attempts of the Spanish party by chicane or by force to get
possession of the coveted territories continued year after year, and were
steadily thwarted by the watchfulness of the States under guidance of
Barneveld. The martial stadholder was more than ever for open war, in
which he was opposed by the Advocate, whose object was to postpone and,
if possible, to avert altogether the dread catastrophe which he foresaw
impending over Europe. The Xanten arrangement seemed hopelessly thrown to
the winds, nor was it destined to be carried out; the whole question of
sovereignty and of mastership in those territories being swept
subsequently into the general whirlpool of the Thirty Years' War. So long
as there was a possibility of settlement upon that basis, the Advocate
was in favour of settlement, but to give up the guarantees and play into
the hands of the Catholic League was in his mind to make the Republic one
of the conspirators against the liberties of Christendom.

"Spain, the Emperor and the rest of them," said he, "make all three modes
of pacification--the treaty, the guarantee by the mediating kings, the
administration divided between the possessory princes--alike impossible.
They mean, under pretext of sequestration, to make themselves absolute
masters there. I have no doubt that Villeroy means sincerely, and
understands the matter, but meantime we sit by the fire and burn. If the
conflagration is neglected, all the world will throw the blame on us."

Thus the Spaniards continued to amuse the British king with assurances of
their frank desire to leave those fortresses and territories which they
really meant to hold till the crack of doom. And while Gondemar was
making these ingenuous assertions in London, his colleagues at Paris and
at Brussels distinctly and openly declared that there was no authority
whatever for them, that the Ambassador had received no such instructions,
and that there was no thought of giving up Wesel or any other of the
Protestant strongholds captured, whether in the duchies or out of them.
And Gondemar, still more to keep that monarch in subjection, had been
unusually flattering in regard to the Spanish marriage. "We are in great
alarm here," said the Advocate, "at the tidings that the projected
alliance of the Prince of Wales with the daughter of Spain is to be
renewed; from which nothing good for his Majesty's person, his kingdom,
nor for our state can be presaged. We live in hope that it will never
be."

But the other marriage was made. Despite the protest of James, the
forebodings of Barneveld, and the mutiny of the princes, the youthful
king of France had espoused Anne of Austria early in the year 1616. The
British king did his best to keep on terms with France and Spain, and by
no means renounced his own hopes. At the same time, while fixed as ever
in his approbation of the policy pursued by the Emperor and the League,
and as deeply convinced of their artlessness in regard to the duchies,
the Protestant princes of Germany, and the Republic, he manifested more
cordiality than usual in his relations with the States. Minor questions
between the countries he was desirous of arranging--so far as matters of
state could be arranged by orations--and among the most pressing of these
affairs were the systematic piracy existing and encouraged in English
ports, to the great damage of all seafaring nations and to the Hollanders
most of all, and the quarrel about the exportation of undyed cloths,
which had almost caused a total cessation of the woollen trade between
the two countries. The English, to encourage their own artisans, had
forbidden the export of undyed cloths, and the Dutch had retorted by
prohibiting the import of dyed ones.

The King had good sense enough to see the absurdity of this condition of
things, and it will be remembered that Barneveld had frequently urged
upon the Dutch ambassador to bring his Majesty's attention to these
dangerous disputes. Now that the recovery of the cautionary towns had
been so dexterously and amicably accomplished, and at so cheap a rate, it
seemed a propitious moment to proceed to a general extinction of what
would now be called "burning questions."

James was desirous that new high commissioners might be sent from the
States to confer with himself and his ministers upon the subjects just
indicated, as well as upon the fishery questions as regarded both
Greenland and Scotland, and upon the general affairs of India.

He was convinced, he said to Caron, that the sea had become more and more
unsafe and so full of freebooters that the like was never seen or heard
of before. It will be remembered that the Advocate had recently called
his attention to the fact that the Dutch merchants had lost in two months
800,000 florins' worth of goods by English pirates.

The King now assured the Ambassador of his intention of equipping a fleet
out of hand and to send it forth as speedily as possible under command of
a distinguished nobleman, who would put his honour and credit in a
successful expedition, without any connivance or dissimulation whatever.
In order thoroughly to scour these pirates from the seas, he expressed
the hope that their Mightinesses the States would do the same either
jointly or separately as they thought most advisable. Caron bluntly
replied that the States had already ten or twelve war-ships at sea for
this purpose, but that unfortunately, instead of finding any help from
the English in this regard, they had always found the pirates favoured in
his Majesty's ports, especially in Ireland and Wales.

"Thus they have so increased in numbers," continued the Ambassador, "that
I quite believe what your Majesty says, that not a ship can pass with
safety over the seas. More over, your Majesty has been graciously pleased
to pardon several of these corsairs, in consequence of which they have
become so impudent as to swarm everywhere, even in the river Thames,
where they are perpetually pillaging honest merchantmen."

"I confess," said the King, "to having pardoned a certain Manning, but
this was for the sake of his old father, and I never did anything so
unwillingly in my life. But I swear that if it were the best nobleman in
England, I would never grant one of them a pardon again."

Caron expressed his joy at hearing such good intentions on the part of
his Majesty, and assured him that the States-General would be equally
delighted.

In the course of the summer the Dutch ambassador had many opportunities
of seeing the King very confidentially, James having given him the use of
the royal park at Bayscot, so that during the royal visits to that place
Caron was lodged under his roof.

On the whole, James had much regard and respect for Noel de Caron. He
knew him to be able, although he thought him tiresome. It is amusing to
observe the King and Ambassador in their utterances to confidential
friends each frequently making the charge of tediousness against the
other. "Caron's general education," said James on one occasion to Cecil,
"cannot amend his native German prolixity, for had I not interrupted him,
it had been tomorrow morning before I had begun to speak. God preserve me
from hearing a cause debated between Don Diego and him! . . . But in
truth it is good dealing with so wise and honest a man, although he be
somewhat longsome."

Subsequently James came to Whitehall for a time, and then stopped at
Theobalds for a few days on his way to Newmarket, where he stayed until
Christmas. At Theobalds he sent again for the Ambassador, saying that at
Whitehall he was so broken down with affairs that it would be impossible
to live if he stayed there.

He asked if the States were soon to send the commissioners, according to
his request, to confer in regard to the cloth-trade. Without interference
of the two governments, he said, the matter would never be settled. The
merchants of the two countries would never agree except under higher
authority.

"I have heard both parties," he said, "the new and the old companies, two
or three times in full council, and tried to bring them to an agreement,
but it won't do. I have heard that My Lords the States have been hearing
both sides, English and the Hollanders, over and over again, and that the
States have passed a provisional resolution, which however does not suit
us. Now it is not reasonable, as we are allies, that our merchants should
be obliged to send their cloths roundabout, not being allowed either to
sell them in the United Provinces or to pass them through your
territories. I wish I could talk with them myself, for I am certain, if
they would send some one here, we could make an agreement. It is not
necessary that one should take everything from them, or that one should
refuse everything to us. I am sure there are people of sense in your
assembly who will justify me in favouring my own people so far as I
reasonably can, and I know very well that My Lords the States must stand
up for their own citizens. If we have been driving this matter to an
extreme and see that we are ruining each other, we must take it up again
in other fashion, for Yesterday is the preceptor of To-morrow. Let the
commissioners come as soon as possible. I know they have complaints to
make, and I have my complaints also. Therefore we must listen to each
other, for I protest before God that I consider the community of your
state with mine to be so entire that, if one goes to perdition, the other
must quickly follow it."

Thus spoke James, like a wise and thoughtful sovereign interested in the
welfare of his subjects and allies, with enlightened ideas for the time
upon public economy. It is difficult, in the man conversing thus amicably
and sensibly with the Dutch ambassador, to realise the shrill pedant
shrieking against Vorstius, the crapulous comrade of Carrs and Steenies,
the fawning solicitor of Spanish marriages, the "pepperer" and hangman of
Puritans, the butt and dupe of Gondemar and Spinola.

"I protest," he said further, "that I seek nothing in your state but all
possible friendship and good fellowship. My own subjects complain
sometimes that your people follow too closely on their heels, and confess
that your industry goes far above their own. If this be so, it is a lean
kind of reproach; for the English should rather study to follow you.
Nevertheless, when industry is directed by malice, each may easily be
attempting to snap an advantage from the other. I have sometimes
complained of many other things in which my subjects suffered great
injustice from you, but all that is excusable. I will willingly listen to
your people and grant them to be in the right when they are so. But I
will never allow them to be in the right when they mistrust me. If I had
been like many other princes, I should never have let the advantage of
the cautionary towns slip out of my fingers, but rather by means of them
attempted to get even a stronger hold on your country. I have had plenty
of warnings from great statesmen in France, Germany, and other nations
that I ought to give them up nevermore. Yet you know how frankly and
sincerely I acquitted myself in that matter without ever making
pretensions upon your state than the pretensions I still make to your
friendship and co-operation."

James, after this allusion to an important transaction to be explained in
the next chapter, then made an observation or two on a subject which was
rapidly overtopping all others in importance to the States, and his
expressions were singularly at variance with his last utterances in that
regard. "I tell you," he said, "that you have no right to mistrust me in
anything, not even in the matter of religion. I grieve indeed to hear
that your religious troubles continue. You know that in the beginning I
occupied myself with this affair, but fearing that my course might be
misunderstood, and that it might be supposed that I was seeking to
exercise authority in your republic, I gave it up, and I will never
interfere with the matter again, but will ever pray God that he may give
you a happy issue out of these troubles."

Alas! if the King had always kept himself on that height of amiable
neutrality, if he had been able to govern himself in the future by these
simplest principles of reason and justice, there might have been perhaps
a happier issue from the troubles than time was like to reveal.

Once more James referred to the crisis pending in German affairs, and as
usual spoke of the Clove and Julich question as if it were a simple
matter to be settled by a few strokes of the pen and a pennyworth of
sealing-wax, instead of being the opening act in a vast tragedy, of which
neither he, nor Carom nor Barneveld, nor Prince Maurice, nor the youthful
king of France, nor Philip, nor Matthias, nor any of the men now foremost
in the conduct of affairs, was destined to see the end.

The King informed Caron that he had just received most satisfactory
assurances from the Spanish ambassador in his last audience at Whitehall.

"He has announced to me on the part of the King his master with great
compliments that his Majesty seeks to please me and satisfy me in
everything that I could possibly desire of him," said James, rolling over
with satisfaction these unctuous phrases as if they really had any
meaning whatever.

"His Majesty says further," added the King, "that as he has been at
various times admonished by me, and is daily admonished by other princes,
that he ought to execute the treaty of Xanten by surrendering the city of
Wesel and all other places occupied by Spinola, he now declares himself
ready to carry out that treaty in every point. He will accordingly
instruct the Archduke to do this, provided the Margrave of Brandenburg
and the States will do the same in regard to their captured places. As he
understands however that the States have been fortifying Julich even as
he might fortify Wesel, he would be glad that no innovation be made
before the end of the coming month of March. When this term shall have
expired, he will no longer be bound by these offers, but will proceed to
fortify Wesel and the other places, and to hold them as he best may for
himself. Respect for me has alone induced his Majesty to make this
resolution."

We have already seen that the Spanish ambassador in Paris was at this
very time loudly declaring that his colleague in London had no commission
whatever to make these propositions. Nor when they were in the slightest
degree analysed, did they appear after all to be much better than
threats. Not a word was said of guarantees. The names of the two kings
were not mentioned. It was nothing but Albert and Spinola then as always,
and a recommendation that Brandenburg and the States and all the
Protestant princes of Germany should trust to the candour of the Catholic
League. Caron pointed out to the King that in these proposals there were
no guarantees nor even promises that the fortresses would not be
reoccupied at convenience of the Spaniards. He engaged however to report
the whole statement to his masters. A few weeks afterwards the Advocate
replied in his usual vein, reminding the King through the Ambassador that
the Republic feared fraud on the part of the League much more than force.
He also laid stress on the affairs of Italy, considering the fate of
Savoy and the conflicts in which Venice was engaged as components of a
general scheme. The States had been much solicited, as we have seen, to
render assistance to the Duke of Savoy, the temporary peace of Asti being
already broken, and Barneveld had been unceasing in his efforts to arouse
France as well as England to the danger to themselves and to all
Christendom should Savoy be crushed. We shall have occasion to see the
prominent part reserved to Savoy in the fast opening debate in Germany.
Meantime the States had sent one Count of Nassau with a couple of
companies to Charles Emmanuel, while another (Ernest) had just gone to
Venice at the head of more than three thousand adventurers. With so many
powerful armies at their throats, as Barneveld had more than once
observed, it was not easy for them to despatch large forces to the other
end of Europe, but he justly reminded his allies that the States were now
rendering more effective help to the common cause by holding great
Spanish armies in check on their own frontier than if they assumed a more
aggressive line in the south. The Advocate, like every statesman worthy
of the name, was accustomed to sweep the whole horizon in his
consideration of public policy, and it will be observed that he always
regarded various and apparently distinct and isolated movements in
different parts of Europe as parts of one great whole. It is easy enough
for us, centuries after the record has been made up, to observe the
gradual and, as it were, harmonious manner in which the great Catholic
conspiracy against the liberties of Europe was unfolded in an ever
widening sphere. But to the eyes of contemporaries all was then misty and
chaotic, and it required the keen vision of a sage and a prophet to
discern the awful shape which the future might assume. Absorbed in the
contemplation of these portentous phenomena, it was not unnatural that
the Advocate should attach less significance to perturbations nearer
home. Devoted as was his life to save the great European cause of
Protestantism, in which he considered political and religious liberty
bound up, from the absolute extinction with which it was menaced, he
neglected too much the furious hatreds growing up among Protestants
within the narrow limits of his own province. He was destined one day to
be rudely awakened. Meantime he was occupied with organizing a general
defence of Italy, Germany, France, and England, as well as the
Netherlands, against the designs of Spain and the League.

"We wish to know," he said in answer to the affectionate messages and
fine promises of the King of Spain to James as reported by Caron, "what
his Majesty of Great Britain has done, is doing, and is resolved to do
for the Duke of Savoy and the Republic of Venice. If they ask you what we
are doing, answer that we with our forces and vigour are keeping off from
the throats of Savoy and Venice 2000 riders and 10,000 infantry, with
which forces, let alone their experience, more would be accomplished than
with four times the number of new troops brought to the field in Italy.
This is our succour, a great one and a very costly one, for the expense
of maintaining our armies to hold the enemy in check here is very great."

He alluded with his usual respectful and quiet scorn to the arrangements
by which James so wilfully allowed himself to be deceived.

"If the Spaniard really leaves the duchies," he said, "it is a grave
matter to decide whether on the one side he is not resolved by that means
to win more over us and the Elector of Brandenburg in the debateable land
in a few days than he could gain by force in many years, or on the other
whether by it he does not intend despatching 1200 or 1500 cavalry and
5000 or 6000 foot, all his most experienced soldiers, from the
Netherlands to Italy, in order to give the law at his pleasure to the
Duke of Savoy and the Republic of Venice, reserving his attack upon
Germany and ourselves to the last. The Spaniards, standing under a
monarchical government, can in one hour resolve to seize to-morrow all
that they and we may abandon to-day. And they can carry such a resolution
into effect at once. Our form of government does not permit this, so that
our republic must be conserved by distrust and good garrisons."

Thus during this long period of half hostilities Barneveld, while
sincerely seeking to preserve the peace in Europe, was determined, if
possible, that the Republic should maintain the strongest defensive
position when the war which he foreboded should actually begin. Maurice
and the war party had blamed him for the obstacles which he interposed to
the outbreak of hostilities, while the British court, as we have seen,
was perpetually urging him to abate from his demands and abandon both the
well strengthened fortresses in the duchies and that strong citadel of
distrust which in his often repeated language he was determined never to
surrender. Spinola and the military party of Spain, while preaching
peace, had been in truth most anxious for fighting. "The only honour I
desire henceforth," said that great commander, "is to give battle to
Prince Maurice." The generals were more anxious than the governments to
make use of the splendid armies arrayed against each other in such
proximity that, the signal for conflict not having been given, it was not
uncommon for the soldiers of the respective camps to aid each other in
unloading munition waggons, exchanging provisions and other articles of
necessity, and performing other small acts of mutual service.

But heavy thunder clouds hanging over the earth so long and so closely
might burst into explosion at any moment. Had it not been for the
distracted condition of France, the infatuation of the English king, and
the astounding inertness of the princes of the German Union, great
advantages might have been gained by the Protestant party before the
storm should break. But, as the French ambassador at the Hague well
observed, "the great Protestant Union of Germany sat with folded arms
while Hannibal was at their gate, the princes of which it was composed
amusing themselves with staring at each other. It was verifying," he
continued, bitterly, "the saying of the Duke of Alva, 'Germany is an old
dog which still can bark, but has lost its teeth to bite with.'"

To such imbecility had that noble and gifted people--which had never been
organized into a nation since it crushed the Roman empire and established
a new civilization on its ruins, and was to wait centuries longer until
it should reconstruct itself into a whole--been reduced by subdivision,
disintegration, the perpetual dissolvent of religious dispute, and the
selfish policy of infinitesimal dynasties.




CHAPTER XII.

   James still presses for the Payment of the Dutch Republic's Debt to
   him--A Compromise effected, with Restitution of the Cautionary
   Towns--Treaty of Loudun--James's Dream of a Spanish Marriage
   revives--James visits Scotland--The States-General agree to furnish
   Money and Troops in fulfilment of the Treaty of 1609--Death of
   Concini--Villeroy returns to Power.

Besides matters of predestination there were other subjects political and
personal which increased the King's jealousy and hatred. The debt of the
Republic to the British crown, secured by mortgage of the important
sea-ports and fortified towns of Flushing, Brielle, Rammekens, and other
strong places, still existed. The possession of those places by England
was a constant danger and irritation to the States. It was an axe
perpetually held over their heads. It threatened their sovereignty, their
very existence. On more than one occasion, in foreign courts, the
representatives of the Netherlands had been exposed to the taunt that the
Republic was after all not an independent power, but a British province.
The gibe had always been repelled in a manner becoming the envoys of a
proud commonwealth; yet it was sufficiently galling that English
garrisons should continue to hold Dutch towns; one of them among the most
valuable seaports of the Republic,--the other the very cradle of its
independence, the seizure of which in Alva's days had always been
reckoned a splendid achievement. Moreover, by the fifth article of the
treaty of peace between James and Philip III., although the King had
declared himself bound by the treaties made by Elizabeth to deliver up
the cautionary towns to no one but the United States, he promised Spain
to allow those States a reasonable time to make peace with the Archdukes
on satisfactory conditions. Should they refuse to do so, he held himself
bound by no obligations to them, and would deal with the cities as he
thought proper, and as the Archdukes themselves might deem just.

The King had always been furious at "the huge sum of money to be
advanced, nay, given, to the States," as he phrased it. "It is so far out
of all square," he had said, "as on my conscience I cannot think that
ever they craved it 'animo obtinendi,' but only by that objection to
discourage me from any thought of getting any repayment of my debts from
them when they shall be in peace. . . . Should I ruin myself for
maintaining them? Should I bestow as much on them as cometh to the value
of my whole yearly rent?" He had proceeded to say very plainly that, if
the States did not make great speed to pay him all his debt so soon as
peace was established, he should treat their pretence at independence
with contempt, and propose dividing their territory between himself and
the King of France.

"If they be so weak as they cannot subsist either in peace or war," he
said, "without I ruin myself for upholding them, in that case surely
'minus malunv est eligendum,' the nearest harm is first to be eschewed, a
man will leap out of a burning ship and drown himself in the sea; and it
is doubtless a farther off harm for me to suffer them to fall again in
the hands of Spain, and let God provide for the danger that may with time
fall upon me or my posterity than presently to starve myself and mine
with putting the meat in their mouth. Nay, rather if they be so weak as
they can neither sustain themselves in peace nor war, let them leave this
vainglorious thirsting for the title of a free state (which no people are
worthy or able to enjoy that cannot stand by themselves like
substantives), and 'dividantur inter nos;' I mean, let their countries be
divided between France and me, otherwise the King of Spain shall be sure
to consume us."

Such were the eyes with which James had always regarded the great
commonwealth of which he affected to be the ally, while secretly aspiring
to be its sovereign, and such was his capacity to calculate political
forces and comprehend coming events.

Certainly the sword was hanging by a thread. The States had made no peace
either with the Archdukes or with Spain. They had made a truce, half the
term of which had already run by. At any moment the keys of their very
house-door might be placed in the hands of their arch enemy. Treacherous
and base as the deed would be, it might be defended by the letter of a
treaty in which the Republic had no part; and was there anything too
treacherous or too base to be dreaded from James Stuart?

But the States owed the crown of England eight millions of florins,
equivalent to about L750,000. Where was this vast sum to be found? It was
clearly impossible for the States to beg or to borrow it, although they
were nearly as rich as any of the leading powers at that day.

It was the merit of Barneveld, not only that he saw the chance for a good
bargain, but that he fully comprehended a great danger. Years long James
had pursued the phantom of a Spanish marriage for his son. To achieve
this mighty object, he had perverted the whole policy of the realm; he
had grovelled to those who despised him, had repaid attempts at wholesale
assassination with boundless sycophancy. It is difficult to imagine
anything more abject than the attitude of James towards Philip. Prince
Henry was dead, but Charles had now become Prince of Wales in his turn,
and there was a younger infanta whose hand was not yet disposed of.

So long as the possible prize of a Most Catholic princess was dangling
before the eyes of the royal champion of Protestantism, so long there was
danger that the Netherlanders might wake up some fine morning and see the
flag of Spain waving over the walls of Flushing, Brielle, and Rammekens.

It was in the interest of Spain too that the envoys of James at the Hague
were perpetually goading Barneveld to cause the States' troops to be
withdrawn from the duchies and the illusory treaty of Xanten to be
executed. Instead of an eighth province added to the free Netherlands,
the result of such a procedure would have been to place that territory
enveloping them in the hands of the enemy; to strengthen and sharpen the
claws, as the Advocate had called them, by which Spain was seeking to
clutch and to destroy the Republic.

The Advocate steadily refused to countenance such policy in the duchies,
and he resolved on a sudden stroke to relieve the Commonwealth from the
incubus of the English mortgage.

James was desperately pushed for money. His minions, as insatiable in
their demands on English wealth as the parasites who fed on the
Queen-Regent were exhaustive of the French exchequer, were greedier than
ever now that James, who feared to face a parliament disgusted with the
meanness of his policy and depravity of his life, could not be relied
upon to minister to their wants.

The Advocate judiciously contrived that the proposal of a compromise
should come from the English government. Noel de Caron, the veteran
ambassador of the States in London, after receiving certain proposals,
offered, under instructions' from Barneveld, to pay L250,000 in full of
all demands. It was made to appear that the additional L250,000 was in
reality in advance of his instructions. The mouths of the minions watered
at the mention of so magnificent a sum of money in one lump.

The bargain was struck. On the 11th June 1616, Sir Robert Sidney, who had
become Lord Lisle, gave over the city of Flushing to the States,
represented by the Seignior van Maldere, while Sir Horace Vere placed the
important town of Brielle in the hands of the Seignior van Mathenesse.
According to the terms of the bargain, the English garrisons were
converted into two regiments, respectively to be commanded by Lord
Lisle's son, now Sir Robert Sidney, and by Sir Horace Vere, and were to
serve the States. Lisle, who had been in the Netherlands since the days
of his uncle Leicester and his brother Sir Philip Sidney, now took his
final departure for England.

Thus this ancient burthen had been taken off the Republic by the masterly
policy of the Advocate. A great source of dread for foreign complication
was closed for ever.

The French-Spanish marriages had been made. Henry IV. had not been
murdered in vain. Conde and his confederates had issued their manifesto.
A crisis came to the States, for Maurice, always inclined to take part
for the princes, and urged on by Aerssens, who was inspired by a deadly
hatred for the French government ever since they had insisted on his
dismissal from his post, and who fed the Stadholder's growing jealousy of
the Advocate to the full, was at times almost ready for joining in the
conflict. It was most difficult for the States-General, led by Barneveld,
to maintain relations of amity with a government controlled by Spain,
governed by the Concini's, and wafted to and fro by every wind that blew.
Still it was the government, and the States might soon be called upon, in
virtue of their treaties with Henry, confirmed by Mary de' Medici, not
only to prevent the daily desertion of officers and soldiers of the
French regiments to the rebellious party, but to send the regiments
themselves to the assistance of the King and Queen.

There could be no doubt that the alliance of the French Huguenots at
Grenoble with the princes made the position of the States very critical.
Bouillon was loud in his demands upon Maurice and the States for money
and reinforcements, but the Prince fortunately understood the character
of the Duke and of Conde, and comprehended the nature of French politics
too clearly to be led into extremities by passion or by pique. He said
loudly to any one that chose to listen:

"It is not necessary to ruin the son in order to avenge the death of the
father. That should be left to the son, who alone has legitimate
authority to do it." Nothing could be more sensible, and the remark
almost indicated a belief on the Prince's part in Mary's complicity in
the murder of her husband. Duplessis-Mornay was in despair, and, like all
true patriots and men of earnest character, felt it almost an
impossibility to choose between the two ignoble parties contending for
the possession of France, and both secretly encouraged by France's deadly
enemy.

The Treaty of Loudun followed, a treaty which, said du Maurier, had about
as many negotiators as there were individuals interested in the
arrangements. The rebels were forgiven, Conde sold himself out for a
million and a half livres and the presidency of the council, came to
court, and paraded himself in greater pomp and appearance of power than
ever. Four months afterwards he was arrested and imprisoned. He submitted
like a lamb, and offered to betray his confederates.

King James, faithful to his self-imposed part of mediator-general, which
he thought so well became him, had been busy in bringing about this
pacification, and had considered it eminently successful. He was now
angry at this unexpected result. He admitted that Conde had indulged in
certain follies and extravagancies, but these in his opinion all came out
of the quiver of the Spaniard, "who was the head of the whole intrigue."
He determined to recall Lord Hayes from Madrid and even Sir Thomas
Edmonds from Paris, so great was his indignation. But his wrath was
likely to cool under the soothing communications of Gondemar, and the
rumour of the marriage of the second infanta with the Prince of Wales
soon afterwards started into new life. "We hope," wrote Barneveld, "that
the alliance of his Highness the Prince of Wales with the daughter of the
Spanish king will make no further progress, as it will place us in the
deepest embarrassment and pain."

For the reports had been so rife at the English court in regard to this
dangerous scheme that Caron had stoutly gone to the King and asked him
what he was to think about it. "The King told me," said the Ambassador,
"that there was nothing at all in it, nor any appearance that anything
ever would come of it. It was true, he said, that on the overtures made
to him by the Spanish ambassador he had ordered his minister in Spain to
listen to what they had to say, and not to bear himself as if the
overtures would be rejected."

The coyness thus affected by James could hardly impose on so astute a
diplomatist as Noel de Caron, and the effect produced upon the policy of
one of the Republic's chief allies by the Spanish marriages naturally
made her statesmen shudder at the prospect of their other powerful friend
coming thus under the malign influence of Spain.

"He assured me, however," said the Envoy, "that the Spaniard is not
sincere in the matter, and that he has himself become so far alienated
from the scheme that we may sleep quietly upon it." And James appeared at
that moment so vexed at the turn affairs were taking in France, so
wounded in his self-love, and so bewildered by the ubiquitous nature of
nets and pitfalls spreading over Europe by Spain, that he really seemed
waking from his delusion. Even Caron was staggered? "In all his talk he
appears so far estranged from the Spaniard," said he, "that it would seem
impossible that he should consider this marriage as good for his state. I
have also had other advices on the subject which in the highest degree
comfort me. Now your Mightinesses may think whatever you like about it."

The mood of the King was not likely to last long in so comfortable a
state. Meantime he took the part of Conde and the other princes,
justified their proceedings to the special envoy sent over by Mary de'
Medici, and wished the States to join with him in appealing to that Queen
to let the affair, for his sake, pass over once more.

"And now I will tell your Mightinesses," said Caron, reverting once more
to the dreaded marriage which occupies so conspicuous a place in the
strangely mingled and party-coloured tissue of the history of those days,
"what the King has again been telling me about the alliance between his
son and the Infanta. He hears from Carleton that you are in very great
alarm lest this event may take place. He understands that the special
French envoy at the Hague, M. de la None, has been representing to you
that the King of Great Britain is following after and begging for the
daughter of Spain for his son. He says it is untrue. But it is true that
he has been sought and solicited thereto, and that in consequence there
have been talks and propositions and rejoinders, but nothing of any
moment. As he had already told me not to be alarmed until he should
himself give me cause for it, he expressed his amazement that I had not
informed your Mightinesses accordingly. He assured me again that he
should not proceed further in the business without communicating it to
his good friends and neighbours, that he considered My Lords the States
as his best friends and allies, who ought therefore to conceive no
jealousy in the matter."

This certainly was cold comfort. Caron knew well enough, not a clerk in
his office but knew well enough, that James had been pursuing this prize
for years. For the King to represent himself as persecuted by Spain to
give his son to the Infanta was about as ridiculous as it would have been
to pretend that Emperor Matthias was persuading him to let his son-in-law
accept the crown of Bohemia. It was admitted that negotiations for the
marriage were going on, and the assertion that the Spanish court was more
eager for it than the English government was not especially calculated to
allay the necessary alarm of the States at such a disaster. Nor was it
much more tranquillizing for them to be assured, not that the marriage
was off, but that, when it was settled, they, as the King's good friends
and neighbours, should have early information of it.

"I told him," said the Ambassador, "that undoubtedly this matter was of
the highest 'importance to your Mightinesses, for it was not good for us
to sit between two kingdoms both so nearly allied with the Spanish
monarch, considering the pretensions he still maintained to sovereignty
over us. Although his Majesty might not now be willing to treat to our
prejudice, yet the affair itself in the sequence of time must of
necessity injure our commonwealth. We hoped therefore that it would never
come to pass."

Caron added that Ambassador Digby was just going to Spain on
extraordinary mission in regard to this affair, and that eight or ten
gentlemen of the council had been deputed to confer with his Majesty
about it. He was still inclined to believe that the whole negotiation
would blow over, the King continuing to exhort him not to be alarmed, and
assuring him that there were many occasions moving princes to treat of
great affairs although often without any effective issue.

At that moment too the King was in a state of vehement wrath with the
Spanish Netherlands on account of a stinging libel against himself, "an
infamous and wonderfully scandalous pamphlet," as he termed it, called
'Corona Regis', recently published at Louvain. He had sent Sir John
Bennet as special ambassador to the Archdukes to demand from them justice
and condign and public chastisement on the author of the work--a rector
Putianus as he believed, successor of Justus Lipsius in his professorship
at Louvain--and upon the printer, one Flaminius. Delays and excuses
having followed instead of the punishment originally demanded, James had
now instructed his special envoy in case of further delay or evasion to
repudiate all further friendship or intercourse with the Archduke, to
ratify the recall of his minister-resident Trumbull, and in effect to
announce formal hostilities.

"The King takes the thing wonderfully to heart," said Caron.

James in effect hated to be made ridiculous, and we shall have occasion
to see how important a part other publications which he deemed
detrimental to the divinity of his person were to play in these affairs.

Meantime it was characteristic of this sovereign that--while ready to
talk of war with Philip's brother-in-law for a pamphlet, while seeking
the hand of Philip's daughter for his son--he was determined at the very
moment when the world was on fire to take himself, the heaven-born
extinguisher of all political conflagrations, away from affairs and to
seek the solace of along holiday in Scotland. His counsellors
persistently and vehemently implored him to defer that journey until the
following year at least, all the neighbouring nations being now in a
state of war and civil commotion. But it was in vain. He refused to
listen to them for a moment, and started for Scotland before the middle
of March.

Conde, who had kept France in a turmoil, had sought aid alternately from
the Calvinists at Grenoble and the Jesuits in Rome, from Spain and from
the Netherlands, from the Pope and from Maurice of Nassau, had thus been
caged at last. But there was little gained. There was one troublesome but
incompetent rebel the less, but there was no king in the land. He who
doubts the influence of the individual upon the fate of a country and
upon his times through long passages of history may explain the
difference between France of 1609, with a martial king aided by great
statesmen at its head, with an exchequer overflowing with revenue hoarded
for a great cause--and that cause an attempt at least to pacificate
Christendom and avert a universal and almost infinite conflict now
already opening--and the France of 1617, with its treasures already
squandered among ignoble and ruffianly favourites, with every office in
state, church, court, and magistracy sold to the highest bidder, with a
queen governed by an Italian adventurer who was governed by Spain, and
with a little king who had but lately expressed triumph at his
confirmation because now he should no longer be whipped, and who was just
married to a daughter of the hereditary and inevitable foe of France.

To contemplate this dreary interlude in the history of a powerful state
is to shiver at the depths of inanity and crime to which mankind can at
once descend. What need to pursue the barren, vulgar, and often repeated
chronicle? France pulled at by scarcely concealed strings and made to
perform fantastic tricks according as its various puppets were swerved
this way or that by supple bands at Madrid and Rome is not a refreshing
spectacle. The States-General at last, after an agitated discussion,
agreed in fulfilment of the treaty of 1609 to send 4000 men, 2000 being
French, to help the King against the princes still in rebellion. But the
contest was a most bitter one, and the Advocate had a difficult part to
play between a government and a rebellion, each more despicable than the
other. Still Louis XIII. and his mother were the legitimate government
even if ruled by Concini. The words of the treaty made with Henry IV.
were plain, and the ambassadors of his son had summoned the States to
fulfil it. But many impediments were placed in the path of obvious duty
by the party led by Francis Aerssens.

"I know very well," said the Advocate to ex-Burgomaster Hooft of
Amsterdam, father of the great historian, sending him confidentially a
copy of the proposals made by the French ambassadors, "that many in this
country are striving hard to make us refuse to the King the aid demanded,
notwithstanding that we are bound to do it by the pledges given not only
by the States-General but by each province in particular. By this no one
will profit but the Spaniard, who unquestionably will offer much, aye,
very much, to bring about dissensions between France and us, from which I
foresee great damage, inconvenience, and difficulties for the whole
commonwealth and for Holland especially. This province has already
advanced 1,000,000 florins to the general government on the money still
due from France, which will all be lost in case the subsidy should be
withheld, besides other evils which cannot be trusted to the pen."

On the same day on which it had been decided at the Hague to send the
troops, a captain of guards came to the aid of the poor little king and
shot Concini dead one fine spring morning on the bridge of the Louvre.
"By order of the King," said Vitry. His body was burned before the statue
of Henry IV. by the people delirious with joy. "L'hanno ammazzato" was
shouted to his wife, Eleanora Galigai, the supposed sorceress. They were
the words in which Concini had communicated to the Queen the murder of
her husband seven years before. Eleanora, too, was burned after having
been beheaded. Thus the Marshal d'Ancre and wife ceased to reign in
France.

The officers of the French regiments at the Hague danced for joy on the
Vyverberg when the news arrived there. The States were relieved from an
immense embarrassment, and the Advocate was rewarded for having pursued
what was after all the only practicable policy. "Do your best," said he
to Langerac, "to accommodate differences so far as consistent with the
conservation of the King's authority. We hope the princes will submit
themselves now that the 'lapis offensionis,' according to their pretence,
is got rid of. We received a letter from them to-day sealed with the
King's arms, with the circumscription 'Periclitante Regno, Regis vita et
Regia familia."

The shooting of Concini seemed almost to convert the little king into a
hero. Everyone in the Netherlands, without distinction of party, was
delighted with the achievement. "I cannot represent to the King," wrote
du Maurier to Villeroy, "one thousandth part of the joy of all these
people who are exalting him to heaven for having delivered the earth from
this miserable burthen. I can't tell you in what execration this public
pest was held. His Majesty has not less won the hearts of this state than
if he had gained a great victory over the Spaniards. You would not
believe it, and yet it is true, that never were the name and reputation
of the late king in greater reverence than those of our reigning king at
this moment."

Truly here was glory cheaply earned. The fame of Henry the Great, after a
long career of brilliant deeds of arms, high statesmanship, and twenty
years of bountiful friendship for the States, was already equalled by
that of Louis XIII., who had tremblingly acquiesced in the summary
execution of an odious adventurer--his own possible father--and who never
had done anything else but feed his canary birds.

As for Villeroy himself, the Ambassador wrote that he could not find
portraits enough of him to furnish those who were asking for them since
his return to power.

Barneveld had been right in so often instructing Langerac to "caress the
old gentleman."

     ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

     And give advice. Of that, although always a spendthrift
     Casual outbursts of eternal friendship
     Changed his positions and contradicted himself day by day
     Conciliation when war of extermination was intended
     Considered it his special mission in the world to mediate
     Denoungced as an obstacle to peace
     France was mourning Henry and waiting for Richelieu
     Hardly a sound Protestant policy anywhere but in Holland
     History has not too many really important and emblematic men
     I hope and I fear
     King who thought it furious madness to resist the enemy
     Mockery of negotiation in which nothing could be negotiated
     More apprehension of fraud than of force
     Opening an abyss between government and people
     Successful in this step, he is ready for greater ones
     That he tries to lay the fault on us is pure malice
     The magnitude of this wonderful sovereign's littleness
     This wonderful sovereign's littleness oppresses the imagination
     Wise and honest a man, although he be somewhat longsome
     Yesterday is the preceptor of To-morrow




THE LIFE AND DEATH of JOHN OF BARNEVELD, ADVOCATE OF HOLLAND

WITH A VIEW OF THE PRIMARY CAUSES AND MOVEMENTS OF THE THIRTY YEARS' WAR

By John Lothrop Motley, D.C.L., LL.D.

Life and Death of John of Barneveld, v8, 1617




CHAPTER XIII.

   Ferdinand of Gratz crowned King of Bohemia--His Enmity to
   Protestants--Slawata and Martinitz thrown from the Windows of the
   Hradschin--Real Beginning of the Thirty Years' War--The Elector-
   Palatine's Intrigues in Opposition to the House of Austria--He
   supports the Duke of Savoy--The Emperor Matthias visits Dresden--
   Jubilee for the Hundredth Anniversary of the Reformation.

When the forlorn emperor Rudolph had signed the permission for his
brother Matthias to take the last crown but one from his head, he bit the
pen in a paroxysm of helpless rage. Then rushing to the window of his
apartment, he looked down on one of the most stately prospects that the
palaces of the earth can offer. From the long monotonous architectural
lines of the Hradschin, imposing from its massiveness and its imperial
situation, and with the dome and minarets of the cathedral clustering
behind them, the eye swept across the fertile valley, through which the
rapid, yellow Moldau courses, to the opposite line of cliffs crested with
the half imaginary fortress-palaces of the Wyscherad. There, in the
mythical legendary past of Bohemia had dwelt the shadowy Libuscha,
daughter of Krok, wife of King Premysl, foundress of Prague, who, when
wearied of her lovers, was accustomed to toss them from those heights
into the river. Between these picturesque precipices lay the two Pragues,
twin-born and quarrelsome, fighting each other for centuries, and growing
up side by side into a double, bellicose, stormy, and most splendid city,
bristling with steeples and spires, and united by the ancient
many-statued bridge with its blackened mediaeval entrance towers.

But it was not to enjoy the prospect that the aged, discrowned, solitary
emperor, almost as dim a figure among sovereigns as the mystic Libuscha
herself, was gazing from the window upon the imperial city.

"Ungrateful Prague," he cried, "through me thou hast become thus
magnificent, and now thou hast turned upon and driven away thy
benefactor. May the vengeance of God descend upon thee; may my curse come
upon thee and upon all Bohemia."

History has failed to record the special benefits of the Emperor through
which the city had derived its magnificence and deserved this
malediction. But surely if ever an old man's curse was destined to be
literally fulfilled, it seemed to be this solemn imprecation of Rudolph.
Meantime the coronation of Matthias had gone on with pomp and popular
gratulations, while Rudolph had withdrawn into his apartments to pass the
little that was left to him of life in solitude and in a state of
hopeless pique with Matthias, with the rest of his brethren, with all the
world.

And now that five years had passed since his death, Matthias, who had
usurped so much power prematurely, found himself almost in the same
condition as that to which he had reduced Rudolph.

Ferdinand of Styria, his cousin, trod closely upon his heels. He was the
presumptive successor to all his crowns, had not approved of the
movements of Matthias in the lifetime of his brother, and hated the
Vienna Protestant baker's son, Cardinal Clesel, by whom all those
movements had been directed. Professor Taubmann, of Wittenberg,
ponderously quibbling on the name of that prelate, had said that he was
of "one hundred and fifty ass power." Whether that was a fair measure of
his capacity may be doubted, but it certainly was not destined to be
sufficient to elude the vengeance of Ferdinand, and Ferdinand would soon
have him in his power.

Matthias, weary of ambitious intrigue, infirm of purpose, and shattered
in health, had withdrawn from affairs to devote himself to his gout and
to his fair young wife, Archduchess Anna of Tyrol, whom at the age of
fifty-four he had espoused.

On the 29th June 1617, Ferdinand of Gratz was crowned King of Bohemia.
The event was a shock and a menace to the Protestant cause all over the
world. The sombre figure of the Archduke had for years appeared in the
background, foreshadowing as it were the wrath to come, while throughout
Bohemia and the neighbouring countries of Moravia, Silesia, and the
Austrias, the cause of Protestantism had been making such rapid progress.
The Emperor Maximilian II. had left five stalwart sons, so that there had
seemed little probability that the younger line, the sons of his brother,
would succeed. But all the five were childless, and now the son of
Archduke Charles, who had died in 1590, had become the natural heir after
the death of Matthias to the immense family honours--his cousins
Maximilian and Albert having resigned their claims in his favour.

Ferdinand, twelve years old at his father's death, had been placed under
the care of his maternal uncle, Duke William of Bavaria. By him the boy
was placed at the high school of Ingolstadt, to be brought up by the
Jesuits, in company with Duke William's own son Maximilian, five years
his senior. Between these youths, besides the tie of cousinship, there
grew up the most intimate union founded on perfect sympathy in religion
and politics.

When Ferdinand entered upon the government of his paternal estates of
Styria, Carinthia, and Carniola, he found that the new religion, at which
the Jesuits had taught him to shudder as at a curse and a crime, had been
widely spreading. His father had fought against heresy with all his
might, and had died disappointed and broken-hearted at its progress. His
uncle of Bavaria, in letters to his son and nephew, had stamped into
their minds with the enthusiasm of perfect conviction that all happiness
and blessing for governments depended on the restoration and maintenance
of the unity of the Catholic faith. All the evils in times past and
present resulting from religious differences had been held up to the two
youths by the Jesuits in the most glaring colours. The first duty of a
prince, they had inculcated, was to extirpate all false religions, to
give the opponents of the true church no quarter, and to think no
sacrifice too great by which the salvation of human society, brought
almost to perdition by the new doctrines, could be effected.

Never had Jesuits an apter scholar than Ferdinand. After leaving school,
he made a pilgrimage to Loretto to make his vows to the Virgin Mary of
extirpation of heresy, and went to Rome to obtain the blessing of Pope
Clement VIII.

Then, returning to the government of his inheritance, he seized that
terrible two-edged weapon of which the Protestants of Germany had taught
him the use.

"Cujus regio ejus religio;" to the prince the choice of religion, to the
subject conformity with the prince, as if that formula of shallow and
selfish princelings, that insult to the dignity of mankind, were the
grand result of a movement which was to go on centuries after they had
all been forgotten in their tombs. For the time however it was a valid
and mischievous maxim. In Saxony Catholics and Calvinists were
proscribed; in Heidelberg Catholics and Lutherans. Why should either
Calvinists or Lutherans be tolerated in Styria? Why, indeed? No logic
could be more inexorable, and the pupil of the Ingolstadt Jesuits
hesitated not an instant to carry out their teaching with the very
instrument forged for him by the Reformation. Gallows were erected in the
streets of all his cities, but there was no hanging. The sight of them
proved enough to extort obedience to his edict, that every man, woman,
and child not belonging to the ancient church should leave his dominions.
They were driven out in hordes in broad daylight from Gratz and other
cities. Rather reign over a wilderness than over heretics was the device
of the Archduke, in imitation of his great relative, Philip II. of Spain.
In short space of time his duchies were as empty of Protestants as the
Palatinate of Lutherans, or Saxony of Calvinists, or both of Papists.
Even the churchyards were rifled of dead Lutherans and Utraquists, their
carcasses thrown where they could no longer pollute the true believers
mouldering by their side.

It was not strange that the coronation as King of Bohemia of a man of
such decided purposes--a country numbering ten Protestants to one
Catholic--should cause a thrill and a flutter. Could it be doubted that
the great elemental conflict so steadily prophesied by Barneveld and
instinctively dreaded by all capable of feeling the signs of the time
would now begin? It had begun. Of what avail would be Majesty-Letters and
Compromises extorted by force from trembling or indolent emperors, now
that a man who knew his own mind, and felt it to be a crime not to
extirpate all religions but the one orthodox religion, had mounted the
throne? It is true that he had sworn at his coronation to maintain the
laws of Bohemia, and that the Majesty-Letter and the Compromise were part
of the laws.

But when were doctors ever wanting to prove the unlawfulness of law which
interferes with the purposes of a despot and the convictions of the
bigot?

"Novus rex, nova lex," muttered the Catholics, lifting up their heads and
hearts once more out of the oppression and insults which they had
unquestionably suffered at the hands of the triumphant Reformers. "There
are many empty poppy-heads now flaunting high that shall be snipped off,"
said others. "That accursed German Count Thurn and his fellows, whom the
devil has sent from hell to Bohemia for his own purposes, shall be
disposed of now," was the general cry.

It was plain that heresy could no longer be maintained except by the
sword. That which had been extorted by force would be plucked back by
force. The succession of Ferdinand was in brief a warshout to be echoed
by all the Catholics of Europe. Before the end of the year the Protestant
churches of Brunnau were sealed up. Those at Klostergrab were demolished
in three days by command of the Archbishop of Prague. These dumb walls
preached in their destruction more stirring sermons than perhaps would
ever have been heard within them had they stood. This tearing in pieces
of the Imperial patent granting liberty of Protestant worship, this
summary execution done upon senseless bricks and mortar, was an act of
defiance to the Reformed religion everywhere. Protestantism was struck in
the face, spat upon, defied.

The effect was instantaneous. Thurn and the other defenders of the
Protestant faith were as prompt in action as the Catholics had been in
words. A few months passed away. The Emperor was in Vienna, but his ten
stadholders were in Prague. The fateful 23rd of May 1618 arrived.

Slawata, a Bohemian Protestant, who had converted himself to the Roman
Church in order to marry a rich widow, and who converted his peasants by
hunting them to mass with his hounds, and Martinitz, the two stadholders
who at Ferdinand's coronation had endeavoured to prevent him from
including the Majesty-Letter among the privileges he was swearing to
support, and who were considered the real authors of the royal letters
revoking all religious rights of Protestants, were the most obnoxious of
all. They were hurled from the council-chamber window of the Hradschin.
The unfortunate secretary Fabricius was tossed out after them.
Twenty-eight ells deep they fell, and all escaped unhurt by the fall;
Fabricius being subsequently ennobled by a grateful emperor with the
well-won title of Baron Summerset.

The Thirty Years' War, which in reality had been going on for several
years already, is dated from that day. A provisional government was
established in Prague by the Estates under Protestant guidance, a college
of thirty directors managing affairs.

The Window-Tumble, as the event has always been called in history,
excited a sensation in Europe. Especially the young king of France, whose
political position should bring him rather into alliance with the rebels
than the Emperor, was disgusted and appalled. He was used to rebellion.
Since he was ten years old there had been a rebellion against himself
every year. There was rebellion now. But his ministers had never been
thrown out of window. Perhaps one might take some day to tossing out
kings as well. He disapproved the process entirely.

Thus the great conflict of Christendom, so long impending, seemed at last
to have broken forth in full fury on a comparatively insignificant
incident. Thus reasoned the superficial public, as if the throwing out of
window of twenty stadholders could have created a general war in Europe
had not the causes of war lain deep and deadly in the whole framework of
society.

The succession of Ferdinand to the throne of the holy Wenzel, in which
his election to the German Imperial crown was meant to be involved, was a
matter which concerned almost every household in Christendom. Liberty of
religion, civil franchise, political charters, contract between
government and subject, right to think, speak, or act, these were the
human rights everywhere in peril. A compromise between the two religious
parties had existed for half a dozen years in Germany, a feeble
compromise by which men had hardly been kept from each others' throats.
That compromise had now been thrown to the winds. The vast conspiracy of
Spain, Rome, the House of Austria, against human liberty had found a
chief in the docile, gloomy pupil of the Jesuits now enthroned in
Bohemia, and soon perhaps to wield the sceptre of the Holy Roman Empire.
There was no state in Europe that had not cause to put hand on
sword-hilt. "Distrust and good garrisons," in the prophetic words of
Barneveld, would now be the necessary resource for all intending to hold
what had been gained through long years of toil, martyrdom, and hard
fighting.

The succession of Ferdinand excited especial dismay and indignation in
the Palatinate. The young elector had looked upon the prize as his own.
The marked advance of Protestant sentiment throughout the kingdom and its
neighbour provinces had seemed to render the succession of an extreme
Papist impossible. When Frederic had sued for and won the hand of the
fair Elizabeth, daughter of the King of Great Britain, it was understood
that the alliance would be more brilliant for her than it seemed. James
with his usual vanity spoke of his son-in-law as a future king.

It was a golden dream for the Elector and for the general cause of the
Reformed religion. Heidelberg enthroned in the ancient capital of the
Wenzels, Maximilians, and Rudolphs, the Catechism and Confession enrolled
among the great statutes of the land, this was progress far beyond flimsy
Majesty-Letters and Compromises, made only to be torn to pieces.

Through the dim vista of futurity and in ecstatic vision no doubt even
the Imperial crown might seem suspended over the Palatine's head. But
this would be merely a midsummer's dream. Events did not whirl so rapidly
as they might learn to do centuries later, and--the time for a Protestant
to grasp at the crown of Germany could then hardly be imagined as
ripening.

But what the Calvinist branch of the House of Wittelsbach had indeed long
been pursuing was to interrupt the succession of the House of Austria to
the German throne. That a Catholic prince must for the immediate future
continue to occupy it was conceded even by Frederic, but the electoral
votes might surely be now so manipulated as to prevent a slave of Spain
and a tool of the Jesuits from wielding any longer the sceptre of
Charlemagne.

On the other hand the purpose of the House of Austria was to do away with
the elective principle and the prescriptive rights of the Estates in
Bohemia first, and afterwards perhaps to send the Golden Bull itself to
the limbo of wornout constitutional devices. At present however their
object was to secure their hereditary sovereignty in Prague first, and
then to make sure of the next Imperial election at Frankfurt. Time
afterwards might fight still more in their favour, and fix them in
hereditary possession of the German throne.

The Elector-Palatine had lost no time. His counsellors even before the
coronation of Ferdinand at Prague had done their best to excite alarm
throughout Germany at the document by which Archdukes Maximilian and
Albert had resigned all their hereditary claims in favour of Ferdinand
and his male children. Should there be no such issue, the King of Spain
claimed the succession for his own sons as great-grandchildren of Emperor
Maximilian, considering himself nearer in the line than the Styrian
branch, but being willing to waive his own rights in favour of so ardent
a Catholic as Ferdinand. There was even a secret negotiation going on a
long time between the new king of Bohemia and Philip to arrange for the
precedence of the Spanish males over the Styrian females to the
hereditary Austrian states, and to cede the province of Alsace to Spain.

It was not wonderful that Protestant Germany should be alarmed. After a
century of Protestantism, that Spain should by any possibility come to be
enthroned again over Germany was enough to raise both Luther and Calvin
from their graves. It was certainly enough to set the lively young
palatine in motion. So soon as the election of Frederic was proclaimed,
he had taken up the business in person. Fond of amusement, young, married
to a beautiful bride of the royal house of England, he had hitherto left
politics to his counsellors.

Finding himself frustrated in his ambition by the election of another to
the seat he had fondly deemed his own, he resolved to unseat him if he
could, and, at any rate, to prevent the ulterior consequences of his
elevation. He made a pilgrimage to Sedan, to confer with that
irrepressible intriguer and Huguenot chieftain, the Duc de Bouillon. He
felt sure of the countenance of the States-General, and, of course, of
his near relative the great stadholder. He was resolved to invite the
Duke of Lorraine to head the anti-Austrian party, and to stand for the
kingship of the Romans and the Empire in opposition to Ferdinand. An
emissary sent to Nancy came back with a discouraging reply. The Duke not
only flatly refused the candidacy, but warned the Palatine that if it
really came to a struggle he could reckon on small support anywhere, not
even from those who now seemed warmest for the scheme. Then Frederic
resolved to try his cousin, the great Maximilian of Bavaria, to whom all
Catholics looked with veneration and whom all German Protestants
respected. Had the two branches of the illustrious house of Wittelsbach
been combined in one purpose, the opposition to the House of Austria
might indeed have been formidable. But what were ties of blood compared
to the iron bands of religious love and hatred? How could Maximilian,
sternest of Papists, and Frederick V., flightiest of Calvinists, act
harmoniously in an Imperial election? Moreover, Maximilian was united by
ties of youthful and tender friendship as well as by kindred and perfect
religious sympathy to his other cousin, King Ferdinand himself. The case
seemed hopeless, but the Elector went to Munich, and held conferences
with his cousin. Not willing to take No for an answer so long as it was
veiled under evasive or ornamental phraseology, he continued to negotiate
with Maximilian through his envoys Camerarius and Secretary Neu, who held
long debates with the Duke's chief councillor, Doctor Jocher. Camerarius
assured Jocher that his master was the Hercules to untie the Gordian
knot, and the lion of the tribe of Judah. How either the lion of Judah or
Hercules were to untie the knot which was popularly supposed to have been
cut by the sword of Alexander did not appear, but Maximilian at any rate
was moved neither by entreaties nor tropes. Being entirely averse from
entering himself for the German crown, he grew weary at last of the
importunity with which the scheme was urged. So he wrote a short billet
to his councillor, to be shown to Secretary Neu.

"Dear Jocher," he said, "I am convinced one must let these people
understand the matter in a little plainer German. I am once for all
determined not to let myself into any misunderstanding or even
amplifications with the House of Austria in regard to the succession. I
think also that it would rather be harmful than useful to my house to
take upon myself so heavy a burthen as the German crown."

This time the German was plain enough and produced its effect. Maximilian
was too able a statesman and too conscientious a friend to wish to
exchange his own proud position as chief of the League, acknowledged head
of the great Catholic party, for the slippery, comfortless, and unmeaning
throne of the Holy Empire, which he considered Ferdinand's right.

The chiefs of the anti-Austrian party, especially the Prince of Anhalt
and the Margrave of Anspach, in unison with the Heidelberg cabinet, were
forced to look for another candidate. Accordingly the Margrave and the
Elector-Palatine solemnly agreed that it was indispensable to choose an
emperor who should not be of the House of Austria nor a slave of Spain.
It was, to be sure, not possible to think of a Protestant prince. Bavaria
would not oppose Austria, would also allow too much influence to the
Jesuits. So there remained no one but the Duke of Savoy. He was a prince
of the Empire. He was of German descent, of Saxon race, a great general,
father of his soldiers, who would protect Europe against a Turkish
invasion better than the bastions of Vienna could do. He would be
agreeable to the Catholics, while the Protestants could live under him
without anxiety because the Jesuits would be powerless with him. It would
be a master-stroke if the princes would unite upon him. The King of
France would necessarily be pleased with it, the King of Great Britain
delighted.

At last the model candidate had been found. The Duke of Savoy having just
finished for a second time his chronic war with Spain, in which the
United Provinces, notwithstanding the heavy drain on their resources, had
allowed him 50,000 florins a month besides the soldiers under Count
Ernest of Nassau, had sent Mansfeld with 4000 men to aid the revolted
estates in Bohemia. Geographically, hereditarily, necessarily the deadly
enemy of the House of Austria, he listened favourably to the overtures
made to him by the princes of the Union, expressed undying hatred for the
Imperial race, and thought the Bohemian revolt a priceless occasion for
expelling them from power. He was informed by the first envoy sent to
him, Christopher van Dohna, that the object of the great movement now
contemplated was to raise him to the Imperial throne at the next
election, to assist the Bohemian estates, to secure the crown of Bohemia
for the Elector-Palatine, to protect the Protestants of Germany, and to
break down the overweening power of the Austrian house.

The Duke displayed no eagerness for the crown of Germany, while approving
the election of Frederic, but expressed entire sympathy with the
enterprise. It was indispensable however to form a general federation in
Europe of England, the Netherlands, Venice, together with Protestant
Germany and himself, before undertaking so mighty a task. While the
negotiations were going on, both Anspach and Anhalt were in great
spirits. The Margrave cried out exultingly, "In a short time the means
will be in our hands for turning the world upside down." He urged the
Prince of Anhalt to be expeditious in his decisions and actions. "He who
wishes to trade," he said, "must come to market early."

There was some disappointment at Heidelberg when the first news from
Turin arrived, the materials for this vast scheme for an overwhelming and
universal European war not seeming to be at their disposition. By and by
the Duke's plans seem to deepen and broaden. He told Mansfeld, who,
accompanied by Secretary Neu, was glad at a pause in his fighting and
brandschatzing in Bohemia to be employed on diplomatic business, that on
the whole he should require the crown of Bohemia for himself. He also
proposed to accept the Imperial crown, and as for Frederic, he would
leave him the crown of Hungary, and would recommend him to round himself
out by adding to his hereditary dominions the province of Alsace, besides
Upper Austria and other territories in convenient proximity to the
Palatinate.

Venice, it had been hoped, would aid in the great scheme and might in her
turn round herself out with Friuli and Istria and other tempting
possessions of Ferdinand, in reward for the men and money she was
expected to furnish. That republic had however just concluded a war with
Ferdinand, caused mainly by the depredations of the piratical Uscoques,
in which, as we have seen, she had received the assistance of 4000
Hollanders under command of Count John of Nassau. The Venetians had
achieved many successes, had taken the city of Gortz, and almost reduced
the city of Gradiska. A certain colonel Albert Waldstein however, of whom
more might one day be heard in the history of the war now begun, had
beaten the Venetians and opened a pathway through their ranks for succour
to the beleaguered city. Soon afterwards peace was made on an undertaking
that the Uscoques should be driven from their haunts, their castles
dismantled, and their ships destroyed.

Venice declined an engagement to begin a fresh war.

She hated Ferdinand and Matthias and the whole Imperial brood, but, as
old Barbarigo declared in the Senate, the Republic could not afford to
set her house on fire in order to give Austria the inconvenience of the
smoke.

Meantime, although the Elector-Palatine had magnanimously agreed to use
his influence in Bohemia in favour of Charles Emmanuel, the Duke seems at
last to have declined proposing himself for that throne. He knew, he
said, that King James wished that station for his son-in-law. The
Imperial crown belonged to no one as yet after the death of Matthias, and
was open therefore to his competition.

Anhalt demanded of Savoy 15,000 men for the maintenance of the good
cause, asserting that "it would be better to have the Turk or the devil
himself on the German throne than leave it to Ferdinand."

The triumvirate ruling at Prague-Thurn, Ruppa, and Hohenlohe--were
anxious for a decision from Frederic. That simple-hearted and ingenuous
young elector had long been troubled both with fears lest after all he
might lose the crown of Bohemia and with qualms of conscience as to the
propriety of taking it even if he could get it. He wrestled much in
prayer and devout meditation whether as anointed prince himself he were
justified in meddling with the anointment of other princes. Ferdinand had
been accepted, proclaimed, crowned. He artlessly sent to Prague to
consult the Estates whether they possessed the right to rebel, to set
aside the reigning dynasty, and to choose a new king. At the same time,
with an eye to business, he stipulated that on account of the great
expense and trouble devolving upon him the crown must be made hereditary
in his family. The impression made upon the grim Thurn and his colleagues
by the simplicity of these questions may be imagined. The splendour and
width of the Savoyard's conceptions fascinated the leaders of the Union.
It seemed to Anspach and Anhalt that it was as well that Frederic should
reign in Hungary as in Bohemia, and the Elector was docile. All had
relied however on the powerful assistance of the great defender of the
Protestant faith, the father-in-law of the Elector, the King of Great
Britain. But James had nothing but cold water and Virgilian quotations
for his son's ardour. He was more under the influence of Gondemar than
ever before, more eagerly hankering for the Infanta, more completely the
slave of Spain. He pledged himself to that government that if the
Protestants in Bohemia continued rebellious, he would do his best to
frustrate their designs, and would induce his son-in-law to have no
further connection with them. And Spain delighted his heart not by
immediately sending over the Infanta, but by proposing that he should
mediate between the contending parties. It would be difficult to imagine
a greater farce. All central Europe was now in arms. The deepest and
gravest questions about which men can fight: the right to worship God
according to their conscience and to maintain civil franchises which have
been earned by the people with the blood and treasure of centuries, were
now to be solved by the sword, and the pupil of Buchanan and the friend
of Buckingham was to step between hundreds of thousands of men in arms
with a classical oration. But James was very proud of the proposal and
accepted it with alacrity.

"You know, my dear son," he wrote to Frederic, "that we are the only king
in Europe that is sought for by friend and foe for his mediation. It
would be for this our lofty part very unbecoming if we were capable of
favouring one of the parties. Your suggestion that we might secretly
support the Bohemians we must totally reject, as it is not our way to do
anything that we would not willingly confess to the whole world."

And to do James justice, he had never fed Frederic with false hopes,
never given a penny for his great enterprise, nor promised him a penny.
He had contented himself with suggesting from time to time that he might
borrow money of the States-General. His daughter Elizabeth must take care
of herself, else what would become of her brother's marriage to the
daughter of Spain.

And now it was war to the knife, in which it was impossible that Holland,
as well as all the other great powers should not soon be involved. It was
disheartening to the cause of freedom and progress, not only that the
great kingdom on which the world, had learned to rely in all movements
upward and onward should be neutralized by the sycophancy of its monarch
to the general oppressor, but that the great republic which so long had
taken the lead in maintaining the liberties of Europe should now be torn
by religious discord within itself, and be turning against the great
statesman who had so wisely guided her councils and so accurately
foretold the catastrophe which was now upon the world.

Meantime the Emperor Matthias, not less forlorn than through his
intrigues and rebellions his brother Rudolph had been made, passed his
days in almost as utter retirement as if he had formally abdicated.
Ferdinand treated him as if in his dotage. His fair young wife too had
died of hard eating in the beginning of the winter to his inexpressible
grief, so that there was nothing left to solace him now but the
Rudolphian Museum.

He had made but one public appearance since the coronation of Ferdinand
in Prague. Attended by his brother Maximilian, by King Ferdinand, and by
Cardinal Khlesl, he had towards the end of the year 1617 paid a visit to
the Elector John George at Dresden. The Imperial party had been received
with much enthusiasm by the great leader of Lutheranism. The Cardinal had
seriously objected to accompanying the Emperor on this occasion. Since
the Reformation no cardinal had been seen at the court of Saxony. He
cared not personally for the pomps and glories of his rank, but still as
prince of the Church he had settled right of precedence over electors. To
waive it would be disrespectful to the Pope, to claim it would lead to
squabbles. But Ferdinand had need of his skill to secure the vote of
Saxony at the next Imperial election. The Cardinal was afraid of
Ferdinand with good reason, and complied. By an agreeable fiction he was
received at court not as cardinal but as minister, and accommodated with
an humble place at table. Many looking on with astonishment thought he
would have preferred to dine by himself in retirement. But this was not
the bitterest of the mortifications that the pastor and guide of Matthias
was to suffer at the hands of Ferdinand before his career should be
closed. The visit at Dresden was successful, however. John George, being
a claimant, as we have seen, for the Duchies of Cleve and Julich, had
need of the Emperor. The King had need of John George's vote. There was a
series of splendid balls, hunting parties, carousings.

The Emperor was an invalid, the King was abstemious, but the Elector was
a mighty drinker. It was not his custom nor that of his councillors to go
to bed. They were usually carried there. But it was the wish of Ferdinand
to be conciliatory, and he bore himself as well as he could at the
banquet. The Elector was also a mighty hunter. Neither of his Imperial
guests cared for field sports, but they looked out contentedly from the
window of a hunting-lodge, before which for their entertainment the
Elector and his courtiers slaughtered eight bears, ten stags, ten pigs,
and eleven badgers, besides a goodly number of other game; John George
shooting also three martens from a pole erected for that purpose in the
courtyard. It seemed proper for him thus to exhibit a specimen of the
skill for which he was justly famed. The Elector before his life closed,
so says the chronicle, had killed 28,000 wild boars, 208 bears, 3543
wolves, 200 badgers, 18,967 foxes, besides stags and roedeer in still
greater number, making a grand total of 113,629 beasts. The leader of the
Lutheran party of Germany had not lived in vain.

Thus the great chiefs of Catholicism and of Protestantism amicably
disported themselves in the last days of the year, while their respective
forces were marshalling for mortal combat all over Christendom. The
Elector certainly loved neither Matthias nor Ferdinand, but he hated the
Palatine. The chief of the German Calvinists disputed that Protestant
hegemony which John George claimed by right. Indeed the immense advantage
enjoyed by the Catholics at the outbreak of the religious war from the
mutual animosities between the two great divisions of the Reformed Church
was already terribly manifest. What an additional power would it derive
from the increased weakness of the foe, should there be still other and
deeper and more deadly schisms within one great division itself!

"The Calvinists and Lutherans," cried the Jesuit Scioppius, "are so
furiously attacking each other with calumnies and cursings and are
persecuting each other to such extent as to give good hope that the
devilish weight and burthen of them will go to perdition and shame of
itself, and the heretics all do bloody execution upon each other.
Certainly if ever a golden time existed for exterminating the heretics,
it is the present time."

The Imperial party took their leave of Dresden, believing themselves to
have secured the electoral vote of Saxony; the Elector hoping for
protection to his interests in the duchies through that sequestration to
which Barneveld had opposed such vigorous resistance. There had been much
slavish cringing before these Catholic potentates by the courtiers of
Dresden, somewhat amazing to the ruder churls of Saxony, the common
people, who really believed in the religion which their prince had
selected for them and himself.

And to complete the glaring contrast, Ferdinand and Matthias had scarcely
turned their backs before tremendous fulminations upon the ancient church
came from the Elector and from all the doctors of theology in Saxony.

For the jubilee of the hundredth anniversary of the Reformation was
celebrated all over Germany in the autumn of this very year, and nearly
at the exact moment of all this dancing, and fuddling, and pig shooting
at Dresden in honour of emperors and cardinals. And Pope Paul V. had
likewise ordained a jubilee for true believers at almost the same time.

The Elector did not mince matters in his proclamation from any regard to
the feelings of his late guests. He called on all Protestants to rejoice,
"because the light of the Holy Gospel had now shone brightly in the
electoral dominions for a hundred years, the Omnipotent keeping it
burning notwithstanding the raging and roaring of the hellish enemy and
all his scaly servants."

The doctors of divinity were still more emphatic in their phraseology.
They called on all professors and teachers of the true Evangelical
churches, not only in Germany but throughout Christendom, to keep the
great jubilee. They did this in terms not calculated certainly to smother
the flames of religious and party hatred, even if it had been possible at
that moment to suppress the fire. "The great God of Heaven," they said,
"had caused the undertaking of His holy instrument Mr. Doctor Martin
Luther to prosper. Through His unspeakable mercy he has driven away the
Papal darkness and caused the sun of righteousness once more to beam upon
the world. The old idolatries, blasphemies, errors, and horrors of the
benighted Popedom have been exterminated in many kingdoms and countries.
Innumerable sheep of the Lord Christ have been fed on the wholesome
pasture of the Divine Word in spite of those monstrous, tearing, ravenous
wolves, the Pope and his followers. The enemy of God and man, the ancient
serpent, may hiss and rage. Yes, the Roman antichrist in his frantic
blusterings may bite off his own tongue, may fulminate all kinds of
evils, bans, excommunications, wars, desolations, and burnings, as long
and as much as he likes. But if we take refuge with the Lord God, what
can this inane, worn-out man and water-bubble do to us?" With more in the
same taste.

The Pope's bull for the Catholic jubilee was far more decorous and lofty
in tone, for it bewailed the general sin in Christendom, and called on
all believers to flee from the wrath about to descend upon the earth, in
terms that were almost prophetic. He ordered all to pray that the Lord
might lift up His Church, protect it from the wiles of the enemy,
extirpate heresies, grant peace and true unity among Christian princes,
and mercifully avert disasters already coming near.

But if the language of Paul V. was measured and decent, the swarm of
Jesuit pamphleteers that forthwith began to buzz and to sting all over
Christendom were sufficiently venomous. Scioppius, in his Alarm Trumpet
to the Holy War, and a hundred others declared that all heresies and
heretics were now to be extirpated, the one true church to be united and
re-established, and that the only road to such a consummation was a path
of blood.

The Lutheran preachers, on the other hand, obedient to the summons from
Dresden, vied with each other in every town and village in heaping
denunciations, foul names, and odious imputations on the Catholics; while
the Calvinists, not to be behindhand with their fellow Reformers,
celebrated the jubilee, especially at Heidelberg, by excluding Papists
from hope of salvation, and bewailing the fate of all churches sighing
under the yoke of Rome.

And not only were the Papists and the Reformers exchanging these blasts
and counterblasts of hatred, not less deadly in their effects than the
artillery of many armies, but as if to make a thorough exhibition of
human fatuity when drunk with religious passion, the Lutherans were
making fierce paper and pulpit war upon the Calvinists. Especially Hoe,
court preacher of John George, ceaselessly hurled savage libels against
them. In the name of the theological faculty of Wittenberg, he addressed
a "truehearted warning to all Lutheran Christians in Bohemia, Moravia,
Silesia, and other provinces, to beware of the erroneous Calvinistic
religion." He wrote a letter to Count Schlick, foremost leader in the
Bohemian movement, asking whether "the unquiet Calvinist spirit, should
it gain ascendency, would be any more endurable than the Papists. Oh what
woe, what infinite woe," he cried, "for those noble countries if they
should all be thrust into the jaws of Calvinism!"

Did not preacher Hoe's master aspire to the crown of Bohemia himself? Was
he not furious at the start which Heidelberg had got of him in the race
for that golden prize? Was he not mad with jealousy of the Palatine, of
the Palatine's religion, and of the Palatine's claim to "hegemony" in
Germany?

Thus embittered and bloodthirsty towards each other were the two great
sections of the Reformed religion on the first centennial jubilee of the
Reformation. Such was the divided front which the anti-Catholic party
presented at the outbreak of the war with Catholicism.

Ferdinand, on the other hand, was at the head of a comparatively united
party. He could hardly hope for more than benevolent neutrality from the
French government, which, in spite of the Spanish marriages, dared not
wholly desert the Netherlands and throw itself into the hands of Spain;
but Spanish diplomacy had enslaved the British king, and converted what
should have been an active and most powerful enemy into an efficient if
concealed ally. The Spanish and archiducal armies were enveloping the
Dutch republic, from whence the most powerful support could be expected
for the Protestant cause. Had it not been for the steadiness of
Barneveld, Spain would have been at that moment established in full
panoply over the whole surface of those inestimable positions, the
disputed duchies. Venice was lukewarm, if not frigid; and Savoy, although
deeply pledged by passion and interest to the downfall of the House of
Austria, was too dangerously situated herself, too distant, too poor, and
too Catholic to be very formidable.

Ferdinand was safe from the Turkish side. A twenty years' peace,
renewable by agreement, between the Holy Empire and the Sultan had been
negotiated by those two sons of bakers, Cardinal Khlesl and the Vizier
Etmekdschifade. It was destined to endure through all the horrors of the
great war, a stronger protection to Vienna than all the fortifications
which the engineering art could invent. He was safe too from Poland, King
Sigmund being not only a devoted Catholic but doubly his brother-in-law.

Spain, therefore, the Spanish Netherlands, the Pope, and the German
League headed by Maximilian of Bavaria, the ablest prince on the
continent of Europe, presented a square, magnificent phalanx on which
Ferdinand might rely. The States-General, on the other hand, were a most
dangerous foe. With a centennial hatred of Spain, splendidly disciplined
armies and foremost navy of the world, with an admirable financial system
and vast commercial resources, with a great stadholder, first captain of
the age, thirsting for war, and allied in blood as well as religion to
the standard-bearer of the Bohemian revolt; with councils directed by the
wisest and most experienced of living statesman, and with the very life
blood of her being derived from the fountain of civil and religious
liberty, the great Republic of the United Netherlands--her Truce with the
hereditary foe just expiring was, if indeed united, strong enough at the
head of the Protestant forces of Europe to dictate to a world in arms.

Alas! was it united?

As regarded internal affairs of most pressing interest, the electoral
vote at the next election at Frankfurt had been calculated as being
likely to yield a majority of one for the opposition candidate, should
the Savoyard or any other opposition candidate be found. But the
calculation was a close one and might easily be fallacious. Supposing the
Palatine elected King of Bohemia by the rebellious estates, as was
probable, he could of course give the vote of that electorate and his own
against Ferdinand, and the vote of Brandenburg at that time seemed safe.
But Ferdinand by his visit to Dresden had secured the vote of Saxony,
while of the three ecclesiastical electors, Cologne and Mayence were sure
for him. Thus it would be three and three, and the seventh and decisive
vote would be that of the Elector-Bishop of Treves. The sanguine Frederic
thought that with French influence and a round sum of money this
ecclesiastic might be got to vote for the opposition candidate. The
ingenious combination was not destined to be successful, and as there has
been no intention in the present volume to do more than slightly indicate
the most prominent movements and mainsprings of the great struggle so far
as Germany is concerned, without entering into detail, it may be as well
to remind the reader that it proved wonderfully wrong. Matthias died on
the 20th March, 1619, the election of a new emperor took place at
Frankfurt On the 28th of the following August, and not only did Saxony
and all three ecclesiastical electors vote for Ferdinand, but Brandenburg
likewise, as well as the Elector-Palatine himself, while Ferdinand,
personally present in the assembly as Elector of Bohemia, might according
to the Golden Bull have given the seventh vote for himself had he chosen
to do so. Thus the election was unanimous.

Strange to say, as the electors proceeded through the crowd from the hall
of election to accompany the new emperor to the church where he was to
receive the popular acclaim, the news reached them from Prague that the
Elector-Palatine had been elected King of Bohemia.

Thus Frederic, by voting for Ferdinand, had made himself voluntarily a
rebel should he accept the crown now offered him. Had the news arrived
sooner, a different result and even a different history might have been
possible.




CHAPTER XIV.

Barneveld connected with the East India Company, but opposed to the West
India Company--Carleton comes from Venice inimical to Barneveld--Maurice
openly the Chieftain of the Contra-Remonstrants--Tumults about the
Churches--"Orange or Spain" the Cry of Prince Maurice and his Party--They
take possession of the Cloister Church--"The Sharp Resolve"--Carleton's
Orations before the States-General.

King James never forgave Barneveld for drawing from him those famous
letters to the States in which he was made to approve the Five Points and
to admit the possibility of salvation under them. These epistles had
brought much ridicule upon James, who was not amused by finding his
theological discussions a laughing-stock. He was still more incensed by
the biting criticisms made upon the cheap surrender of the cautionary
towns, and he hated more than ever the statesman who, as he believed, had
twice outwitted him.

On the other hand, Maurice, inspired by his brother-in-law the Duke of
Bouillon and by the infuriated Francis Aerssens, abhorred Barneveld's
French policy, which was freely denounced by the French Calvinists and by
the whole orthodox church. In Holland he was still warmly sustained
except in the Contra-Remonstrant Amsterdam and a few other cities of less
importance. But there were perhaps deeper reasons for the Advocate's
unpopularity in the great commercial metropolis than theological
pretexts. Barneveld's name and interests were identified with the great
East India Company, which was now powerful and prosperous beyond anything
ever dreamt of before in the annals of commerce. That trading company had
already founded an empire in the East. Fifty ships of war, fortresses
guarded by 4000 pieces of artillery and 10,000 soldiers and sailors,
obeyed the orders of a dozen private gentlemen at home seated in a back
parlour around a green table. The profits of each trading voyage were
enormous, and the shareholders were growing rich beyond their wildest
imaginings. To no individual so much as to Holland's Advocate was this
unexampled success to be ascribed. The vast prosperity of the East India
Company had inspired others with the ambition to found a similar
enterprise in the West. But to the West India Company then projected and
especially favoured in Amsterdam, Barneveld was firmly opposed. He
considered it as bound up with the spirit of military adventure and
conquest, and as likely to bring on prematurely and unwisely a renewed
conflict with Spain. The same reasons which had caused him to urge the
Truce now influenced his position in regard to the West India Company.

Thus the clouds were gathering every day more darkly over the head of the
Advocate. The powerful mercantile interest in the great seat of traffic
in the Republic, the personal animosity of the Stadholder, the
execrations of the orthodox party in France, England, and all the
Netherlands, the anger of the French princes and all those of the old
Huguenot party who had been foolish enough to act with the princes in
their purely selfish schemes against the government, and the overflowing
hatred of King James, whose darling schemes of Spanish marriages and a
Spanish alliance had been foiled by the Advocate's masterly policy in
France and in the duchies, and whose resentment at having been so
completely worsted and disarmed in the predestination matter and in the
redemption of the great mortgage had deepened into as terrible wrath as
outraged bigotry and vanity could engender; all these elements made up a
stormy atmosphere in which the strongest heart might have quailed. But
Barneveld did not quail. Doubtless he loved power, and the more danger he
found on every side the less inclined he was to succumb. But he honestly
believed that the safety and prosperity of the country he had so long and
faithfully served were identified with the policy which he was pursuing.
Arrogant, overbearing, self-concentrated, accustomed to lead senates and
to guide the councils and share the secrets of kings, familiar with and
almost an actor in every event in the political history not only of his
own country but of every important state in Christendom during nearly two
generations of mankind, of unmatched industry, full of years and
experience, yet feeling within him the youthful strength of a thousand
intellects compared to most of those by which he was calumniated,
confronted, and harassed; he accepted the great fight which was forced
upon him. Irascible, courageous, austere, contemptuous, he looked around
and saw the Republic whose cradle he had rocked grown to be one of the
most powerful and prosperous among the states of the world, and could
with difficulty imagine that in this supreme hour of her strength and her
felicity she was ready to turn and rend the man whom she was bound by
every tie of duty to cherish and to revere.

Sir Dudley Carleton, the new English ambassador to the States, had
arrived during the past year red-hot from Venice. There he had perhaps
not learned especially to love the new republic which had arisen among
the northern lagunes, and whose admission among the nations had been at
last accorded by the proud Queen of the Adriatic, notwithstanding the
objections and the intrigues both of French and English representatives.
He had come charged to the brim with the political spite of James against
the Advocate, and provided too with more than seven vials of theological
wrath. Such was the King's revenge for Barneveld's recent successes. The
supporters in the Netherlands of the civil authority over the Church were
moreover to be instructed by the political head of the English Church
that such supremacy, although highly proper for a king, was "thoroughly
unsuitable for a many-headed republic." So much for church government. As
for doctrine, Arminianism and Vorstianism were to be blasted with one
thunderstroke from the British throne.

"In Holland," said James to his envoy, "there have been violent and sharp
contestations amongst the towns in the cause of religion . . . . . If
they shall be unhappily revived during your time, you shall not forget
that you are the minister of that master whom God hath made the sole
protector of His religion."

There was to be no misunderstanding in future as to the dogmas which the
royal pope of Great Britain meant to prescribe to his Netherland
subjects. Three years before, at the dictation of the Advocate, he had
informed the States that he was convinced of their ability to settle the
deplorable dissensions as to religion according to their wisdom and the
power which belonged to them over churches and church servants. He had
informed them of his having learned by experience that such questions
could hardly be decided by the wranglings of theological professors, and
that it was better to settle them by public authority and to forbid their
being brought into the pulpit or among common people. He had recommended
mutual toleration of religious difference until otherwise ordained by the
public civil authority, and had declared that neither of the two opinions
in regard to predestination was in his opinion far from the truth or
inconsistent with Christian faith or the salvation of souls.

It was no wonder that these utterances were quite after the Advocate's
heart, as James had faithfully copied them from the Advocate's draft.

But now in the exercise of his infallibility the King issued other
decrees. His minister was instructed to support the extreme views of the
orthodox both as to government and dogma, and to urge the National Synod,
as it were, at push of pike. "Besides the assistance," said he to
Carleton, "which we would have you give to the true professors of the
Gospel in your discourse and conferences, you may let fall how hateful
the maintenance of these erroneous opinions is to the majesty of God, how
displeasing unto us their dearest friends, and how disgraceful to the
honour and government of that state."

And faithfully did the Ambassador act up to his instructions. Most
sympathetically did he embody the hatred of the King. An able,
experienced, highly accomplished diplomatist and scholar, ready with
tongue and pen, caustic, censorious, prejudiced, and partial, he was soon
foremost among the foes of the Advocate in the little court of the Hague,
and prepared at any moment to flourish the political and theological goad
when his master gave the word.

Nothing in diplomatic history is more eccentric than the long sermons
upon abstruse points of divinity and ecclesiastical history which the
English ambassador delivered from time to time before the States-General
in accordance with elaborate instructions drawn up by his sovereign with
his own hand. Rarely has a king been more tedious, and he bestowed all
his tediousness upon My Lords the States-General. Nothing could be more
dismal than these discourses, except perhaps the contemporaneous and
interminable orations of Grotius to the states of Holland, to the
magistrates of Amsterdam, to the states of Utrecht; yet Carleton was a
man of the world, a good debater, a ready writer, while Hugo Grotius was
one of the great lights of that age and which shone for all time.

Among the diplomatic controversies of history, rarely refreshing at best,
few have been more drouthy than those once famous disquisitions, and they
shall be left to shrivel into the nothingness of the past, so far as is
consistent with the absolute necessities of this narrative.

The contest to which the Advocate was called had become mainly a personal
and a political one, although the weapons with which it was fought were
taken from ecclesiastical arsenals. It was now an unequal contest.

For the great captain of the country and of his time, the son of William
the Silent, the martial stadholder, in the fulness of his fame and vigour
of his years, had now openly taken his place as the chieftain of the
Contra-Remonstrants. The conflict between the civil and the military
element for supremacy in a free commonwealth has never been more vividly
typified than in this death-grapple between Maurice and Barneveld.

The aged but still vigorous statesman, ripe with half a century of
political lore, and the high-born, brilliant, and scientific soldier,
with the laurels of Turnhout and Nieuwpoort and of a hundred famous
sieges upon his helmet, reformer of military science, and no mean
proficient in the art of politics and government, were the
representatives and leaders of the two great parties into which the
Commonwealth had now unhappily divided itself. But all history shows that
the brilliant soldier of a republic is apt to have the advantage, in a
struggle for popular affection and popular applause, over the statesman,
however consummate. The general imagination is more excited by the
triumphs of the field than by those of the tribune, and the man who has
passed many years of life in commanding multitudes with necessarily
despotic sway is often supposed to have gained in the process the
attributes likely to render him most valuable as chief citizen of a flee
commonwealth. Yet national enthusiasm is so universally excited by
splendid military service as to forbid a doubt that the sentiment is
rooted deeply in our nature, while both in antiquity and in modern times
there are noble although rare examples of the successful soldier
converting himself into a valuable and exemplary magistrate.

In the rivalry of Maurice and Barneveld however for the national
affection the chances were singularly against the Advocate. The great
battles and sieges of the Prince had been on a world's theatre, had
enchained the attention of Christendom, and on their issue had frequently
depended, or seemed to depend, the very existence of the nation. The
labours of the statesman, on the contrary, had been comparatively secret.
His noble orations and arguments had been spoken with closed doors to
assemblies of colleagues--rather envoys than senators--were never printed
or even reported, and could be judged of only by their effects; while his
vast labours in directing both the internal administration and especially
the foreign affairs of the Commonwealth had been by their very nature as
secret as they were perpetual and enormous.

Moreover, there was little of what we now understand as the democratic
sentiment in the Netherlands. There was deep and sturdy attachment to
ancient traditions, privileges, special constitutions extorted from a
power acknowledged to be superior to the people. When partly to save
those chartered rights, and partly to overthrow the horrible
ecclesiastical tyranny of the sixteenth century, the people had
accomplished a successful revolt, they never dreamt of popular
sovereignty, but allowed the municipal corporations, by which their local
affairs had been for centuries transacted, to unite in offering to
foreign princes, one after another, the crown which they had torn from
the head of the Spanish king. When none was found to accept the dangerous
honour, they had acquiesced in the practical sovereignty of the States;
but whether the States-General or the States-Provincial were the supreme
authority had certainly not been definitely and categorically settled. So
long as the States of Holland, led by the Advocate, had controlled in
great matters the political action of the States-General, while the
Stadholder stood without a rival at the head of their military affairs,
and so long as there were no fierce disputes as to government and dogma
within the bosom of the Reformed Church, the questions which were now
inflaming the whole population had been allowed to slumber.

The termination of the war and the rise of Arminianism were almost
contemporaneous. The Stadholder, who so unwillingly had seen the
occupation in which he had won so much glory taken from him by the Truce,
might perhaps find less congenial but sufficiently engrossing business as
champion of the Church and of the Union.

The new church--not freedom of worship for different denominations of
Christians, but supremacy of the Church of Heidelberg and Geneva--seemed
likely to be the result of the overthrow of the ancient church. It is the
essence of the Catholic Church to claim supremacy over and immunity from
the civil authority, and to this claim for the Reformed Church, by which
that of Rome had been supplanted, Barneveld was strenuously opposed.

The Stadholder was backed, therefore, by the Church in its purity, by the
majority of the humbler classes--who found in membership of the oligarchy
of Heaven a substitute for those democratic aspirations on earth which
were effectually suppressed between the two millstones of burgher
aristocracy and military discipline--and by the States-General, a
majority of which were Contra-Remonstrant in their faith.

If the sword is usually an overmatch for the long robe in political
struggles, the cassock has often proved superior to both combined. But in
the case now occupying our attention the cassock was in alliance with the
sword. Clearly the contest was becoming a desperate one for the
statesman.

And while the controversy between the chiefs waged hotter and hotter, the
tumults around the churches on Sundays in every town and village grew
more and more furious, ending generally in open fights with knives,
bludgeons, and brickbats; preachers and magistrates being often too glad
to escape with a whole skin. One can hardly be ingenuous enough to
consider all this dirking, battering, and fisticuffing as the legitimate
and healthy outcome of a difference as to the knotty point whether all
men might or might not be saved by repentance and faith in Christ.

The Greens and Blues of the Byzantine circus had not been more typical of
fierce party warfare in the Lower Empire than the greens and blues of
predestination in the rising commonwealth, according to the real or
imagined epigram of Prince Maurice.

"Your divisions in religion," wrote Secretary Lake to Carleton, "have, I
doubt not, a deeper root than is discerned by every one, and I doubt not
that the Prince Maurice's carriage doth make a jealousy of affecting a
party under the pretence of supporting one side, and that the States fear
his ends and aims, knowing his power with the men of war; and that
howsoever all be shadowed under the name of religion there is on either
part a civil end, of the one seeking a step of higher authority, of the
other a preservation of liberty."

And in addition to other advantages the Contra-Remonstrants had now got a
good cry--an inestimable privilege in party contests.

"There are two factions in the land," said Maurice, "that of Orange and
that of Spain, and the two chiefs of the Spanish faction are those
political and priestly Arminians, Uytenbogaert and Oldenbarneveld."

Orange and Spain! the one name associated with all that was most
venerated and beloved throughout the country, for William the Silent
since his death was almost a god; the other ineradicably entwined at that
moment with, everything execrated throughout the land. The Prince of
Orange's claim to be head of the Orange faction could hardly be disputed,
but it was a master stroke of political malice to fix the stigma of
Spanish partisanship on the Advocate. If the venerable patriot who had
been fighting Spain, sometimes on the battle-field and always in the
council, ever since he came to man's estate, could be imagined even in a
dream capable of being bought with Spanish gold to betray his country,
who in the ranks of the Remonstrant party could be safe from such
accusations? Each party accused the other of designs for altering or
subverting the government. Maurice was suspected of what were called
Leicestrian projects, "Leycestrana consilia"--for the Earl's plots to
gain possession of Leyden and Utrecht had never been forgotten--while the
Prince and those who acted with him asserted distinctly that it was the
purpose of Barneveld to pave the way for restoring the Spanish
sovereignty and the Popish religion so soon as the Truce had reached its
end?

Spain and Orange. Nothing for a faction fight could be neater. Moreover
the two words rhyme in Netherlandish, which is the case in no other
language, "Spanje-Oranje." The sword was drawn and the banner unfurled.

The "Mud Beggars" of the Hague, tired of tramping to Ryswyk of a Sunday
to listen to Henry Rosaeus, determined on a private conventicle in the
capital. The first barn selected was sealed up by the authorities, but
Epoch Much, book-keeper of Prince Maurice, then lent them his house. The
Prince declared that sooner than they should want a place of assembling
he would give them his own. But he meant that they should have a public
church to themselves, and that very soon. King James thoroughly approved
of all these proceedings. At that very instant such of his own subjects
as had seceded from the Established Church to hold conventicles in barns
and breweries and backshops in London were hunted by him with bishops'
pursuivants and other beagles like vilest criminals, thrown into prison
to rot, or suffered to escape from their Fatherland into the
trans-Atlantic wilderness, there to battle with wild beasts and savages,
and to die without knowing themselves the fathers of a more powerful
United States than the Dutch Republic, where they were fain to seek in
passing a temporary shelter. He none the less instructed his envoy at the
Hague to preach the selfsame doctrines for which the New England Puritans
were persecuted, and importunately and dictatorially to plead the cause
of those Hollanders who, like Bradford and Robinson, Winthrop and Cotton,
maintained the independence of the Church over the State.

Logic is rarely the quality on which kings pride themselves, and
Puritanism in the Netherlands, although under temporary disadvantage at
the Hague, was evidently the party destined to triumph throughout the
country. James could safely sympathize therefore in Holland with what he
most loathed in England, and could at the same time feed fat the grudge
he owed the Advocate. The calculations of Barneveld as to the respective
political forces of the Commonwealth seem to have been to a certain
extent defective.

He allowed probably too much weight to the Catholic party as a motive
power at that moment, and he was anxious both from that consideration and
from his honest natural instinct for general toleration; his own broad
and unbigoted views in religious matters, not to force that party into a
rebellious attitude dangerous to the state. We have seen how nearly a
mutiny in the important city of Utrecht, set on foot by certain Romanist
conspirators in the years immediately succeeding the Truce, had subverted
the government, had excited much anxiety amongst the firmest allies of
the Republic, and had been suppressed only by the decision of the
Advocate and a show of military force.

He had informed Carleton not long after his arrival that in the United
Provinces, and in Holland in particular, were many sects and religions of
which, according to his expression, "the healthiest and the richest part
were the Papists, while the Protestants did not make up one-third part of
the inhabitants."

Certainly, if these statistics were correct or nearly correct, there
could be nothing more stupid from a purely political point of view than
to exasperate so influential a portion of the community to madness and
rebellion by refusing them all rights of public worship. Yet because the
Advocate had uniformly recommended indulgence, he had incurred more odium
at home than from any other cause. Of course he was a Papist in disguise,
ready to sell his country to Spain, because he was willing that more than
half the population of the country should be allowed to worship God
according to their conscience. Surely it would be wrong to judge the
condition of things at that epoch by the lights of to-day, and perhaps in
the Netherlands there had before been no conspicuous personage, save
William the Silent alone, who had risen to the height of toleration on
which the Advocate essayed to stand. Other leading politicians considered
that the national liberties could be preserved only by retaining the
Catholics in complete subjection.

At any rate the Advocate was profoundly convinced of the necessity of
maintaining harmony and mutual toleration among the Protestants
themselves, who, as he said, made up but one-third of the whole people.
In conversing with the English ambassador he divided them into "Puritans
and double Puritans," as they would be called, he said, in England. If
these should be at variance with each other, he argued, the Papists would
be the strongest of all. "To prevent this inconvenience," he said, "the
States were endeavouring to settle some certain form of government in the
Church; which being composed of divers persecuted churches such as in the
beginning of the wars had their refuge here, that which during the wars
could not be so well done they now thought seasonable for a time of
truce; and therefore would show their authority in preventing the schism
of the Church which would follow the separation of those they call
Remonstrants and Contra-Remonstrants."

There being no word so offensive to Carleton's sovereign as the word
Puritan, the Ambassador did his best to persuade the Advocate that a
Puritan in Holland was a very different thing from a Puritan in England.
In England he was a noxious vermin, to be hunted with dogs. In the
Netherlands he was the governing power. But his arguments were vapourous
enough and made little impression on Barneveld. "He would no ways yield,"
said Sir Dudley.

Meantime the Contra-Remonstrants of the Hague, not finding sufficient
accommodation in Enoch Much's house, clamoured loudly for the use of a
church. It was answered by the city magistrates that two of their
persuasion, La Motte and La Faille, preached regularly in the Great
Church, and that Rosaeus had been silenced only because he refused to
hold communion with Uytenbogaert. Maurice insisted that a separate church
should be assigned them. "But this is open schism," said Uytenbogaert.

Early in the year there was a meeting of the Holland delegation to the
States-General, of the state council, and of the magistracy of the Hague,
of deputies from the tribunals, and of all the nobles resident in the
capital. They sent for Maurice and asked his opinion as to the alarming
situation of affairs. He called for the register-books of the States of
Holland, and turning back to the pages on which was recorded his
accession to the stadholderate soon after his father's murder, ordered
the oath then exchanged between himself and the States to be read aloud.

That oath bound them mutually to support the Reformed religion till the
last drop of blood in their veins.

"That oath I mean to keep," said the Stadholder, "so long as I live."

No one disputed the obligation of all parties to maintain the Reformed
religion. But the question was whether the Five Points were inconsistent
with the Reformed religion. The contrary was clamorously maintained by
most of those present: In the year 1586 this difference in dogma had not
arisen, and as the large majority of the people at the Hague, including
nearly all those of rank and substance, were of the Remonstrant
persuasion, they naturally found it not agreeable to be sent out of the
church by a small minority. But Maurice chose to settle the question very
summarily. His father had been raised to power by the strict Calvinists,
and he meant to stand by those who had always sustained William the
Silent. "For this religion my father lost his life, and this religion
will I defend," said he.

"You hold then," said Barneveld, "that the Almighty has created one child
for damnation and another for salvation, and you wish this doctrine to be
publicly preached."

"Did you ever hear any one preach that?" replied the Prince.

"If they don't preach it, it is their inmost conviction," said the other.
And he proceeded to prove his position by copious citations.

"And suppose our ministers do preach this doctrine, is there anything
strange in it, any reason why they should not do so?"

The Advocate expressed his amazement and horror at the idea.

"But does not God know from all eternity who is to be saved and who to be
damned; and does He create men for any other end than that to which He
from eternity knows they will come?"

And so they enclosed themselves in the eternal circle out of which it was
not probable that either the soldier or the statesman would soon find an
issue.

"I am no theologian," said Barneveld at last, breaking off the
discussion.

"Neither am I," said the Stadholder. "So let the parsons come together.
Let the Synod assemble and decide the question. Thus we shall get out of
all this."

Next day a deputation of the secessionists waited by appointment on
Prince Maurice. They found him in the ancient mediaeval hall of the
sovereign counts of Holland, and seated on their old chair of state. He
recommended them to use caution and moderation for the present, and to go
next Sunday once more to Ryswyk. Afterwards he pledged himself that they
should have a church at the Hague, and, if necessary, the Great Church
itself.

But the Great Church, although a very considerable Catholic cathedral
before the Reformation, was not big enough now to hold both Henry Rosaeus
and John Uytenbogaert. Those two eloquent, learned, and most pugnacious
divines were the respective champions in the pulpit of the opposing
parties, as were the Advocate and the Stadholder in the council. And
there was as bitter personal rivalry between the two as between the
soldier and statesman.

"The factions begin to divide themselves," said Carleton, "betwixt his
Excellency and Monsieur Barneveld as heads who join to this present
difference their ancient quarrels. And the schism rests actually between
Uytenbogaert and Rosaeus, whose private emulation and envy (both being
much applauded and followed) doth no good towards the public
pacification." Uytenbogaert repeatedly offered, however, to resign his
functions and to leave the Hague. "He was always ready to play the
Jonah," he said.

A temporary arrangement was made soon afterwards by which Rosaeus and his
congregation should have the use of what was called the Gasthuis Kerk,
then appropriated to the English embassy.

Carleton of course gave his consent most willingly. The Prince declared
that the States of Holland and the city magistracy had personally
affronted him by the obstacles they had interposed to the public worship
of the Contra-Remonstrants. With their cause he had now thoroughly
identified himself.

The hostility between the representatives of the civil and military
authority waxed fiercer every hour. The tumults were more terrible than
ever. Plainly there was no room in the Commonwealth for the Advocate and
the Stadholder. Some impartial persons believed that there would be no
peace until both were got rid of. "There are many words among this
free-spoken people," said Carleton, "that to end these differences they
must follow the example of France in Marshal d'Ancre's case, and take off
the heads of both chiefs."

But these decided persons were in a small minority. Meantime the States
of Holland met in full assembly; sixty delegates being present.

It was proposed to invite his Excellency to take part in the
deliberations. A committee which had waited upon him the day before had
reported him as in favour of moderate rather than harsh measures in the
church affair, while maintaining his plighted word to the seceders.

Barneveld stoutly opposed the motion.

"What need had the sovereign states of Holland of advice from a
stadholder, from their servant, their functionary?" he cried.

But the majority for once thought otherwise. The Prince was invited to
come. The deliberations were moderate but inconclusive. He appeared again
at an adjourned meeting when the councils were not so harmonious.

Barneveld, Grotius, and other eloquent speakers endeavoured to point out
that the refusal of the seceders to hold communion with the Remonstrant
preachers and to insist on a separation was fast driving the state to
perdition. They warmly recommended mutual toleration and harmony. Grotius
exhausted learning and rhetoric to prove that the Five Points were not
inconsistent with salvation nor with the constitution of the United
Provinces.

The Stadholder grew impatient at last and clapped his hand on his rapier.

"No need here," he said, "of flowery orations and learned arguments. With
this good sword I will defend the religion which my father planted in
these Provinces, and I should like to see the man who is going to prevent
me!"

The words had an heroic ring in the ears of such as are ever ready to
applaud brute force, especially when wielded by a prince. The argumentum
ad ensem, however, was the last plea that William the Silent would have
been likely to employ on such an occasion, nor would it have been easy to
prove that the Reformed religion had been "planted" by one who had drawn
the sword against the foreign tyrant, and had made vast sacrifices for
his country's independence years before abjuring communion with the Roman
Catholic Church.

When swords are handled by the executive in presence of civil assemblies
there is usually but one issue to be expected.

Moreover, three whales had recently been stranded at Scheveningen, one of
them more than sixty feet long, and men wagged their beards gravely as
they spoke of the event, deeming it a certain presage of civil
commotions. It was remembered that at the outbreak of the great war two
whales had been washed ashore in the Scheldt. Although some free-thinking
people were inclined to ascribe the phenomenon to a prevalence of strong
westerly gales, while others found proof in it of a superabundance of
those creatures in the Polar seas, which should rather give encouragement
to the Dutch and Zealand fisheries, it is probable that quite as dark
forebodings of coming disaster were caused by this accident as by the
trumpet-like defiance which the Stadholder had just delivered to the
States of Holland.

Meantime the seceding congregation of the Hague had become wearied of the
English or Gasthuis Church, and another and larger one had been promised
them. This was an ancient convent on one of the principal streets of the
town, now used as a cannon-foundry. The Prince personally superintended
the preparations for getting ready this place of worship, which was
thenceforth called the Cloister Church. But delays were, as the
Contra-Remonstrants believed, purposely interposed, so that it was nearly
Midsummer before there were any signs of the church being fit for use.

They hastened accordingly to carry it, as it were, by assault. Not
wishing peaceably to accept as a boon from the civil authority what they
claimed as an indefeasible right, they suddenly took possession one
Sunday night of the Cloister Church.

It was in a state of utter confusion--part monastery, part foundry, part
conventicle. There were few seats, no altar, no communion-table, hardly
any sacramental furniture, but a pulpit was extemporized. Rosaeus
preached in triumph to an enthusiastic congregation, and three children
were baptized with the significant names of William, Maurice, and Henry.

On the following Monday there was a striking scene on the Voorhout. This
most beautiful street of a beautiful city was a broad avenue, shaded by a
quadruple row of limetrees, reaching out into the thick forest of secular
oaks and beeches--swarming with fallow-deer and alive with the notes of
singing birds--by which the Hague, almost from time immemorial, has been
embowered. The ancient cloisterhouse and church now reconverted to
religious uses--was a plain, rather insipid structure of red brick picked
out with white stone, presenting three symmetrical gables to the street,
with a slender belfry and spire rising in the rear.

Nearly adjoining it on the north-western side was the elegant and
commodious mansion of Barneveld, purchased by him from the
representatives of the Arenberg family, surrounded by shrubberies and
flower-gardens; not a palace, but a dignified and becoming abode for the
first citizen of a powerful republic.

On that midsummer's morning it might well seem that, in rescuing the old
cloister from the military purposes to which it had for years been
devoted, men had given an even more belligerent aspect to the scene than
if it had been left as a foundry. The miscellaneous pieces of artillery
and other fire-arms lying about, with piles of cannon-ball which there
had not been time to remove, were hardly less belligerent and threatening
of aspect than the stern faces of the crowd occupied in thoroughly
preparing the house for its solemn destination. It was determined that
there should be accommodation on the next Sunday for all who came to the
service. An army of carpenters, joiners, glaziers, and other
workmen-assisted by a mob of citizens of all ranks and ages, men and
women, gentle and simple were busily engaged in bringing planks and
benches; working with plane, adze, hammer and saw, trowel and shovel, to
complete the work.

On the next Sunday the Prince attended public worship for the last time
at the Great Church under the ministration of Uytenbogaert. He was
infuriated with the sermon, in which the bold Remonstrant bitterly
inveighed against the proposition for a National Synod. To oppose that
measure publicly in the very face of the Stadholder, who now considered
himself as the Synod personified, seemed to him flat blasphemy. Coming
out of the church with his step-mother, the widowed Louise de Coligny,
Princess of Orange, he denounced the man in unmeasured terms. "He is the
enemy of God," said Maurice. At least from that time forth, and indeed
for a year before, Maurice was the enemy of the preacher.

On the following Sunday, July 23, Maurice went in solemn state to the
divine service at the Cloister Church now thoroughly organized. He was
accompanied by his cousin, the famous Count William Lewis of Nassau,
Stadholder of Friesland, who had never concealed his warm sympathy with
the Contra-Remonstrants, and by all the chief officers of his household
and members of his staff. It was an imposing demonstration and meant for
one. As the martial stadholder at the head of his brilliant cavalcade
rode forth across the drawbridge from the Inner Court of the old moated
palace--where the ancient sovereign Dirks and Florences of Holland had so
long ruled their stout little principality--along the shady and stately
Kneuterdyk and so through the Voorhout, an immense crowd thronged around
his path and accompanied him to the church. It was as if the great
soldier were marching to siege or battle-field where fresher glories than
those of Sluys or Geertruidenberg were awaiting him.

The train passed by Barneveld's house and entered the cloister. More than
four thousand persons were present at the service or crowded around the
doors vainly attempting to gain admission into the overflowing aisles;
while the Great Church was left comparatively empty, a few hundred only
worshipping there. The Cloister Church was thenceforth called the
Prince's Church, and a great revolution was beginning even in the Hague.

The Advocate was wroth as he saw the procession graced by the two
stadholders and their military attendants. He knew that he was now to bow
his head to the Church thus championed by the chief personage and
captain-general of the state, to renounce his dreams of religious
toleration, to sink from his post of supreme civic ruler, or to accept an
unequal struggle in which he might utterly succumb. But his iron nature
would break sooner than bend. In the first transports of his indignation
he is said to have vowed vengeance against the immediate instruments by
which the Cloister Church had, as he conceived, been surreptitiously and
feloniously seized. He meant to strike a blow which should startle the
whole population of the Hague, send a thrill of horror through the
country, and teach men to beware how they trifled with the sovereign
states of Holland, whose authority had so long been undisputed, and with
him their chief functionary.

He resolved--so ran the tale of the preacher Trigland, who told it to
Prince Maurice, and has preserved it in his chronicle--to cause to be
seized at midnight from their beds four men whom he considered the
ringleaders in this mutiny, to have them taken to the place of execution
on the square in the midst of the city, to have their heads cut off at
once by warrant from the chief tribunal without any previous warning, and
then to summon all the citizens at dawn of day, by ringing of bells and
firing of cannon, to gaze on the ghastly spectacle, and teach them to
what fate this pestilential schism and revolt against authority had
brought its humble tools. The victims were to be Enoch Much, the Prince's
book-keeper, and three others, an attorney, an engraver, and an
apothecary, all of course of the Contra-Remonstrant persuasion. It was
necessary, said the Advocate, to make once for all an example, and show
that there was a government in the land.

He had reckoned on a ready adhesion to this measure and a sentence from
the tribunal through the influence of his son-in-law, the Seignior van
Veenhuyzen, who was president of the chief court. His attempt was foiled
however by the stern opposition of two Zealand members of the court, who
managed to bring up from a bed of sickness, where he had long been lying,
a Holland councillor whom they knew to be likewise opposed to the fierce
measure, and thus defeated it by a majority of one.

Such is the story as told by contemporaries and repeated from that day to
this. It is hardly necessary to say that Barneveld calmly denied having
conceived or even heard of the scheme. That men could go about looking
each other in the face and rehearsing such gibberish would seem
sufficiently dispiriting did we not know to what depths of credulity men
in all ages can sink when possessed by the demon of party malice.

If it had been narrated on the Exchange at Amsterdam or Flushing during
that portentous midsummer that Barneveld had not only beheaded but
roasted alive, and fed the dogs and cats upon the attorney, the
apothecary, and the engraver, there would have been citizens in plenty to
devour the news with avidity.

But although the Advocate had never imagined such extravagances as these,
it is certain that he had now resolved upon very bold measures, and that
too without an instant's delay. He suspected the Prince of aiming at
sovereignty not only over Holland but over all the provinces and to be
using the Synod as a principal part of his machinery. The gauntlet was
thrown down by the Stadholder, and the Advocate lifted it at once. The
issue of the struggle would depend upon the political colour of the town
magistracies. Barneveld instinctively felt that Maurice, being now
resolved that the Synod should be held, would lose no time in making a
revolution in all the towns through the power he held or could plausibly
usurp. Such a course would, in his opinion, lead directly to an
unconstitutional and violent subversion of the sovereign rights of each
province, to the advantage of the central government. A religious creed
would be forced upon Holland and perhaps upon two other provinces which
was repugnant to a considerable majority of the people. And this would be
done by a majority vote of the States-General, on a matter over which, by
the 13th Article of the fundamental compact--the Union of Utrecht--the
States-General had no control, each province having reserved the
disposition of religious affairs to itself. For let it never be forgotten
that the Union of the Netherlands was a compact, a treaty, an agreement
between sovereign states. There was no pretence that it was an
incorporation, that the people had laid down a constitution, an organic
law. The people were never consulted, did not exist, had not for
political purposes been invented. It was the great primal defect of their
institutions, but the Netherlanders would have been centuries before
their age had they been able to remedy that defect. Yet the Netherlanders
would have been much behind even that age of bigotry had they admitted
the possibility in a free commonwealth, of that most sacred and important
of all subjects that concern humanity, religious creed--the relation of
man to his Maker--to be regulated by the party vote of a political board.

It was with no thought of treason in his heart or his head therefore that
the Advocate now resolved that the States of Holland and the cities of
which that college was composed should protect their liberties and
privileges, the sum of which in his opinion made up the sovereignty of
the province he served, and that they should protect them, if necessary,
by force. Force was apprehended. It should be met by force. To be
forewarned was to be forearmed. Barneveld forewarned the States of
Holland.

On the 4th August 1617, he proposed to that assembly a resolution which
was destined to become famous. A majority accepted it after brief debate.
It was to this effect.

The States having seen what had befallen in many cities, and especially
in the Hague, against the order, liberties, and laws of the land, and
having in vain attempted to bring into harmony with the States certain
cities which refused to co-operate with the majority, had at last
resolved to refuse the National Synod, as conflicting with the
sovereignty and laws of Holland. They had thought good to set forth in
public print their views as to religious worship, and to take measures to
prevent all deeds of violence against persons and property. To this end
the regents of cities were authorized in case of need, until otherwise
ordained, to enrol men-at-arms for their security and prevention of
violence. Furthermore, every one that might complain of what the regents
of cities by strength of this resolution might do was ordered to have
recourse to no one else than the States of Holland, as no account would
be made of anything that might be done or undertaken by the tribunals.

Finally, it was resolved to send a deputation to Prince Maurice, the
Princess-Widow, and Prince Henry, requesting them to aid in carrying out
this resolution.

Thus the deed was done. The sword was drawn. It was drawn in self-defence
and in deliberate answer to the Stadholder's defiance when he rapped his
sword hilt in face of the assembly, but still it was drawn. The States of
Holland were declared sovereign and supreme. The National Synod was
peremptorily rejected. Any decision of the supreme courts of the Union in
regard to the subject of this resolution was nullified in advance.
Thenceforth this measure of the 4th August was called the "Sharp
Resolve." It might prove perhaps to be double-edged.

It was a stroke of grim sarcasm on the part of the Advocate thus solemnly
to invite the Stadholder's aid in carrying out a law which was aimed
directly at his head; to request his help for those who meant to defeat
with the armed hand that National Synod which he had pledged himself to
bring about.

The question now arose what sort of men-at-arms it would be well for the
city governments to enlist. The officers of the regular garrisons had
received distinct orders from Prince Maurice as their military superior
to refuse any summons to act in matters proceeding from the religious
question. The Prince, who had chief authority over all the regular
troops, had given notice that he would permit nothing to be done against
"those of the Reformed religion," by which he meant the
Contra-Remonstrants and them only.

In some cities there were no garrisons, but only train-bands. But the
train bands (Schutters) could not be relied on to carry out the Sharp
Resolve, for they were almost to a man Contra-Remonstrants. It was
therefore determined to enlist what were called "Waartgelders;" soldiers,
inhabitants of the place, who held themselves ready to serve in time of
need in consideration of a certain wage; mercenaries in short.

This resolution was followed as a matter of course by a solemn protest
from Amsterdam and the five cities who acted with her.

On the same day Maurice was duly notified of the passage of the law. His
wrath was great. High words passed between him and the deputies. It could
hardly have been otherwise expected. Next-day he came before the Assembly
to express his sentiments, to complain of the rudeness with which the
resolution of 4th August had been communicated to him, and to demand
further explanations. Forthwith the Advocate proceeded to set forth the
intentions of the States, and demanded that the Prince should assist the
magistrates in carrying out the policy decided upon. Reinier Pauw,
burgomaster of Amsterdam, fiercely interrupted the oration of Barneveld,
saying that although these might be his views, they were not to be held
by his Excellency as the opinions of all. The Advocate, angry at the
interruption, answered him sternly, and a violent altercation, not
unmixed with personalities, arose. Maurice, who kept his temper admirably
on this occasion, interfered between the two and had much difficulty in
quieting the dispute. He then observed that when he took the oath as
stadholder these unfortunate differences had not arisen, but all had been
good friends together. This was perfectly true, but he could have added
that they might all continue good friends unless the plan of imposing a
religious creed upon the minority by a clerical decision were persisted
in. He concluded that for love of one of the two great parties he would
not violate the oath he had taken to maintain the Reformed religion to
the last drop of his blood. Still, with the same 'petitio principii' that
the Reformed religion and the dogmas of the Contra-Remonstrants were one
and the same thing, he assured the Assembly that the authority of the
magistrates would be sustained by him so long as it did not lead to the
subversion of religion.

Clearly the time for argument had passed. As Dudley Carleton observed,
men had been disputing 'pro aris' long enough. They would soon be
fighting 'pro focis.'

In pursuance of the policy laid down by the Sharp Resolution, the States
proceeded to assure themselves of the various cities of the province by
means of Waartgelders. They sent to the important seaport of Brielle and
demanded a new oath from the garrison. It was intimated that the Prince
would be soon coming there in person to make himself master of the place,
and advice was given to the magistrates to be beforehand with him. These
statements angered Maurice, and angered him the more because they
happened to be true. It was also charged that he was pursuing his
Leicestrian designs and meant to make himself, by such steps, sovereign
of the country. The name of Leicester being a byword of reproach ever
since that baffled noble had a generation before left the Provinces in
disgrace, it was a matter of course that such comparisons were
excessively exasperating. It was fresh enough too in men's memory that
the Earl in his Netherland career had affected sympathy with the
strictest denomination of religious reformers, and that the profligate
worldling and arrogant self-seeker had used the mask of religion to cover
flagitious ends. As it had indeed been the object of the party at the
head of which the Advocate had all his life acted to raise the youthful
Maurice to the stadholderate expressly to foil the plots of Leicester, it
could hardly fail to be unpalatable to Maurice to be now accused of
acting the part of Leicester.

He inveighed bitterly on the subject before the state council: The state
council, in a body, followed him to a meeting of the States-General. Here
the Stadholder made a vehement speech and demanded that the States of
Holland should rescind the "Sharp Resolution," and should desist from the
new oaths required from the soldiery. Barneveld, firm as a rock, met
these bitter denunciations. Speaking in the name of Holland, he repelled
the idea that the sovereign States of that province were responsible to
the state council or to the States-General either. He regretted, as all
regretted, the calumnies uttered against the Prince, but in times of such
intense excitement every conspicuous man was the mark of calumny.

The Stadholder warmly repudiated Leicestrian designs, and declared that
he had been always influenced by a desire to serve his country and
maintain the Reformed religion. If he had made mistakes, he desired to be
permitted to improve in the future.

Thus having spoken, the soldier retired from the Assembly with the state
council at his heels.

The Advocate lost no time in directing the military occupation of the
principal towns of Holland, such as Leyden, Gouda, Rotterdam,
Schoonhoven, Hoorn, and other cities.

At Leyden especially, where a strong Orange party was with difficulty
kept in obedience by the Remonstrant magistracy, it was found necessary
to erect a stockade about the town-hall and to plant caltrops and other
obstructions in the squares and streets.

The broad space in front; of the beautiful medieval seat of the municipal
government, once so sacred for the sublime and pathetic scenes enacted
there during the famous siege and in the magistracy of Peter van der
Werff, was accordingly enclosed by a solid palisade of oaken planks,
strengthened by rows of iron bars with barbed prongs: The entrenchment
was called by the populace the Arminian Fort, and the iron spear heads
were baptized Barneveld's teeth. Cannon were planted at intervals along
the works, and a company or two of the Waartgelders, armed from head to
foot, with snaphances on their shoulders, stood ever ready to issue forth
to quell any disturbances. Occasionally a life or two was lost of citizen
or soldier, and many doughty blows were interchanged.

It was a melancholy spectacle. No commonwealth could be more fortunate
than this republic in possessing two such great leading minds. No two men
could be more patriotic than both Stadholder and Advocate. No two men
could be prouder, more overbearing, less conciliatory.

"I know Mons. Barneveld well," said Sir Ralph Winwood, "and know that he
hath great powers and abilities, and malice itself must confess that man
never hath done more faithful and powerful service to his country than
he. But 'finis coronat opus' and 'il di lodi lacera; oportet imperatorem
stantem mori.'"

The cities of Holland were now thoroughly "waartgeldered," and Barneveld
having sufficiently shown his "teeth" in that province departed for
change of air to Utrecht. His failing health was assigned as the pretext
for the visit, although the atmosphere of that city has never been
considered especially salubrious in the dog-days.

Meantime the Stadholder remained quiet, but biding his time. He did not
choose to provoke a premature conflict in the strongholds of the
Arminians as he called them, but with a true military instinct preferred
making sure of the ports. Amsterdam, Enkhuyzen, Flushing, being without
any effort of his own within his control, he quietly slipped down the
river Meuse on the night of the 29th September, accompanied by his
brother Frederic Henrys and before six o'clock next morning had
introduced a couple of companies of trustworthy troops into Brielle, had
summoned the magistrates before him, and compelled them to desist from
all further intention of levying mercenaries. Thus all the fortresses
which Barneveld had so recently and in such masterly fashion rescued from
the grasp of England were now quietly reposing in the hands of the
Stadholder.

Maurice thought it not worth his while for the present to quell the
mutiny--as he considered it the legal and constitutional defence of
vested right--as great jurists like Barneveld and Hugo Grotius accounted
the movement--at its "fountain head Leyden or its chief stream Utrecht;"
to use the expression of Carleton. There had already been bloodshed in
Leyden, a burgher or two having been shot and a soldier stoned to death
in the streets, but the Stadholder deemed it unwise to precipitate
matters. Feeling himself, with his surpassing military knowledge and with
a large majority of the nation at his back, so completely master of the
situation, he preferred waiting on events. And there is no doubt that he
was proving himself a consummate politician and a perfect master of
fence. "He is much beloved and followed both of soldiers and people,"
said the English ambassador, "he is a man 'innoxiae popularitatis' so as
this jealousy cannot well be fastened upon him; and in this cause of
religion he stirred not until within these few months he saw he must
declare himself or suffer the better party to be overborne."

The chief tribunal-high council so called-of the country soon gave
evidence that the "Sharp Resolution" had judged rightly in reckoning on
its hostility and in nullifying its decisions in advance.

They decided by a majority vote that the Resolution ought not to be
obeyed, but set aside. Amsterdam, and the three or four cities usually
acting with her, refused to enlist troops.

Rombout Hoogerbeets, a member of the tribunal, informed Prince Maurice
that he "would no longer be present on a bench where men disputed the
authority of the States of Holland, which he held to be the supreme
sovereignty over him."

This was plain speaking; a distinct enunciation of what the States' right
party deemed to be constitutional law.

And what said Maurice in reply?

"I, too, recognize the States of Holland as sovereign; but we might at
least listen to each other occasionally."

Hoogerbeets, however, deeming that listening had been carried far enough,
decided to leave the tribunal altogether, and to resume the post which he
had formerly occupied as Pensionary or chief magistrate of Leyden.

Here he was soon to find himself in the thick of the conflict. Meantime
the States-General, in full assembly, on 11th November 1617, voted that
the National Synod should be held in the course of the following year.
The measure was carried by a strict party vote and by a majority of one.
The representatives of each province voting as one, there were four in
favour of to three against the Synod. The minority, consisting of
Holland, Utrecht, and Overyssel, protested against the vote as an
outrageous invasion of the rights of each province, as an act of flagrant
tyranny and usurpation.

The minority in the States of Holland, the five cities often named,
protested against the protest.

The defective part of the Netherland constitutions could not be better
illustrated. The minority of the States of Holland refused to be bound by
a majority of the provincial assembly. The minority of the States-General
refused to be bound by the majority of the united assembly.

This was reducing politics to an absurdity and making all government
impossible. It is however quite certain that in the municipal governments
a majority had always governed, and that a majority vote in the
provincial assemblies had always prevailed. The present innovation was to
govern the States-General by a majority.

Yet viewed by the light of experience and of common sense, it would be
difficult to conceive of a more preposterous proceeding than thus to cram
a religious creed down the throats of half the population of a country by
the vote of a political assembly. But it was the seventeenth and not the
nineteenth century.

Moreover, if there were any meaning in words, the 13th Article of Union,
reserving especially the disposition over religious matters to each
province, had been wisely intended to prevent the possibility of such
tyranny.

When the letters of invitation to the separate states and to others were
drawing up in the general assembly, the representatives of the three
states left the chamber. A solitary individual from Holland remained
however, a burgomaster of Amsterdam.

Uytenbogaert, conversing with Barneveld directly afterwards, advised him
to accept the vote. Yielding to the decision of the majority, it would be
possible, so thought the clergyman, for the great statesman so to handle
matters as to mould the Synod to his will, even as he had so long
controlled the States-Provincial and the States-General.

"If you are willing to give away the rights of the land," said the
Advocate very sharply, "I am not."

Probably the priest's tactics might have proved more adroit than the
stony opposition on which Barneveld was resolved.

But it was with the aged statesman a matter of principle, not of policy.
His character and his personal pride, the dignity of opinion and office,
his respect for constitutional law, were all at stake.

Shallow observers considered the struggle now taking place as a personal
one. Lovers of personal government chose to look upon the Advocate's
party as a faction inspired with an envious resolve to clip the wings of
the Stadholder, who was at last flying above their heads.

There could be no doubt of the bitter animosity between the two men.
There could be no doubt that jealousy was playing the part which that
master passion will ever play in all the affairs of life. But there could
be no doubt either that a difference of principle as wide as the world
separated the two antagonists.

Even so keen an observer as Dudley Carleton, while admitting the man's
intellectual power and unequalled services, could see nothing in the
Advocate's present course but prejudice, obstinacy, and the insanity of
pride. "He doth no whit spare himself in pains nor faint in his
resolution," said the Envoy, "wherein notwithstanding he will in all
appearance succumb ere afore long, having the disadvantages of a weak
body, a weak party, and a weak cause." But Carleton hated Barneveld, and
considered it the chief object of his mission to destroy him, if he
could. In so doing he would best carry out the wishes of his sovereign.

The King of Britain had addressed a somewhat equivocal letter to the
States-General on the subject of religion in the spring of 1617. It
certainly was far from being as satisfactory as, the epistles of 1613
prepared under the Advocate's instructions, had been, while the exuberant
commentary upon the royal text, delivered in full assembly by his
ambassador soon after the reception of the letter, was more than usually
didactic, offensive, and ignorant. Sir Dudley never omitted an
opportunity of imparting instruction to the States-General as to the
nature of their constitution and the essential dogmas on which their
Church was founded. It is true that the great lawyers and the great
theologians of the country were apt to hold very different opinions from
his upon those important subjects, but this was so much the worse for the
lawyers and theologians, as time perhaps might prove.

The King in this last missive had proceeded to unsay the advice which he
had formerly bestowed upon the States, by complaining that his earlier
letters had been misinterpreted. They had been made use of, he said, to
authorize the very error against which they had been directed. They had
been held to intend the very contrary of what they did mean. He felt
himself bound in conscience therefore, finding these differences ready to
be "hatched into schisms," to warn the States once more against pests so
pernicious.

Although the royal language was somewhat vague so far as enunciation of
doctrine, a point on which he had once confessed himself fallible, was
concerned, there was nothing vague in his recommendation of a National
Synod. To this the opposition of Barneveld was determined not upon
religious but upon constitutional grounds. The confederacy did not
constitute a nation, and therefore there could not be a national synod
nor a national religion.

Carleton came before the States-General soon afterwards with a prepared
oration, wearisome as a fast-day sermon after the third turn of the
hour-glass, pragmatical as a schoolmaster's harangue to fractious little
boys.

He divided his lecture into two heads--the peace of the Church, and the
peace of the Provinces--starting with the first. "A Jove principium," he
said, "I will begin with that which is both beginning and end. It is the
truth of God's word and its maintenance that is the bond of our common
cause. Reasons of state invite us as friends and neighbours by the
preservation of our lives and property, but the interest of religion
binds us as Christians and brethren to the mutual defence of the liberty
of our consciences."

He then proceeded to point out the only means by which liberty of
conscience could be preserved. It was by suppressing all forms of
religion but one, and by silencing all religious discussion. Peter
Titelman and Philip II. could not have devised a more pithy formula. All
that was wanting was the axe and faggot to reduce uniformity to practice.
Then liberty of conscience would be complete.

"One must distinguish," said the Ambassador, "between just liberty and
unbridled license, and conclude that there is but one truth single and
unique. Those who go about turning their brains into limbecks for
distilling new notions in religious matters only distract the union of
the Church which makes profession of this unique truth. If it be
permitted to one man to publish the writings and fantasies of a sick
spirit and for another moved by Christian zeal to reduce this wanderer
'ad sanam mentem;' why then 'patet locus adversus utrumque,' and the
common enemy (the Devil) slips into the fortress." He then proceeded to
illustrate this theory on liberty of conscience by allusions to Conrad
Vorstius.

This infamous sectary had in fact reached such a pitch of audacity, said
the Ambassador, as not only to inveigh against the eternal power of God
but to indulge in irony against the honour of his Majesty King James.

And in what way had he scandalized the government of the Republic? He had
dared to say that within its borders there was religious toleration. He
had distinctly averred that in the United Provinces heretics were not
punished with death or with corporal chastisement.

"He declares openly," said Carleton, "that contra haereticos etiam vere
dictos (ne dum falso et calumniose sic traductos) there is neither
sentence of death nor other corporal punishment, so that in order to
attract to himself a great following of birds of the name feather he
publishes to all the world that here in this country one can live and die
a heretic, unpunished, without being arrested and without danger."

In order to suppress this reproach upon the Republic at which the
Ambassador stood aghast, and to prevent the Vorstian doctrines of
religious toleration and impunity of heresy from spreading among "the
common people, so subject by their natures to embrace new opinions," he
advised of course that "the serpent be sent back to the nest where he was
born before the venom had spread through the whole body of the Republic."

A week afterwards a long reply was delivered on part of the
States-General to the Ambassador's oration. It is needless to say that it
was the work of the Advocate, and that it was in conformity with the
opinions so often exhibited in the letters to Caron and others of which
the reader has seen many samples.

That religious matters were under the control of the civil government,
and that supreme civil authority belonged to each one of the seven
sovereign provinces, each recognizing no superior within its own sphere,
were maxims of state always enforced in the Netherlands and on which the
whole religious controversy turned.

"The States-General have always cherished the true Christian Apostolic
religion," they said, "and wished it to be taught under the authority and
protection of the legal government of these Provinces in all purity, and
in conformity with the Holy Scriptures, to the good people of these
Provinces. And My Lords the States and magistrates of the respective
provinces, each within their own limits, desire the same."

They had therefore given express orders to the preachers "to keep the
peace by mutual and benign toleration of the different opinions on the
one side and the other at least until with full knowledge of the subject
the States might otherwise ordain. They had been the more moved to this
because his Majesty having carefully examined the opinions of the learned
hereon each side had found both consistent with Christian belief and the
salvation of souls."

It was certainly not the highest expression of religious toleration for
the civil authority to forbid the clergymen of the country from
discussing in their pulpits the knottiest and most mysterious points of
the schoolmen lest the "common people" should be puzzled. Nevertheless,
where the close union of Church and State and the necessity of one church
were deemed matters of course, it was much to secure subordination of the
priesthood to the magistracy, while to enjoin on preachers abstention
from a single exciting cause of quarrel, on the ground that there was
more than one path to salvation, and that mutual toleration was better
than mutual persecution, was; in that age, a stride towards religious
equality. It was at least an advance on Carleton's dogma, that there was
but one unique and solitary truth, and that to declare heretics not
punishable with death was an insult to the government of the Republic.

The States-General answered the Ambassador's plea, made in the name of
his master, for immediate and unguaranteed evacuation of the debatable
land by the arguments already so often stated in the Advocate's
instructions to Caron. They had been put to great trouble and expense
already in their campaigning and subsequent fortification of important
places in the duchies. They had seen the bitter spirit manifested by the
Spaniards in the demolition of the churches and houses of Mulheim and
other places. "While the affair remained in its present terms of utter
uncertainty their Mightinesses," said the States-General, "find it most
objectionable to forsake the places which they have been fortifying and
to leave the duchies and all their fellow-religionists, besides the
rights of the possessory princes a prey to those who have been hankering
for the territories for long years, and who would unquestionably be able
to make themselves absolute masters of all within a very few days."

A few months later Carleton came before the States-General again and
delivered another elaborate oration, duly furnished to him by the King,
upon the necessity of the National Synod, the comparative merits of
Arminianism and Contra-Remonstrantism, together with a full exposition of
the constitutions of the Netherlands.

It might be supposed that Barneveld and Grotius and Hoogerbeets knew
something of the law and history of their country.

But James knew much better, and so his envoy endeavoured to convince his
audience.

He received on the spot a temperate but conclusive reply from the
delegates of Holland. They informed him that the war with Spain--the
cause of the Utrecht Union--was not begun about religion but on account
of the violation of liberties, chartered rights and privileges, not the
least of which rights was that of each province to regulate religious
matters within its borders.

A little later a more vehement reply was published anonymously in the
shape of a pamphlet called 'The Balance,' which much angered the
Ambassador and goaded his master almost to frenzy. It was deemed so
blasphemous, so insulting to the Majesty of England, so entirely
seditious, that James, not satisfied with inditing a rejoinder, insisted
through Carleton that a reward should be offered by the States for the
detection of the author, in order that he might be condignly punished.
This was done by a majority vote, 1000 florins being offered for the
discovery of the author and 600 for that of the printer.

Naturally the step was opposed in the States-General; two deputies in
particular making themselves conspicuous. One of them was an audacious
old gentleman named Brinius of Gelderland, "much corrupted with
Arminianism," so Carleton informed his sovereign. He appears to have
inherited his audacity through his pedigree, descending, as it was
ludicrously enough asserted he did, from a chief of the Caninefates, the
ancient inhabitants of Gelderland, called Brinio. And Brinio the
Caninefat had been as famous for his stolid audacity as for his
illustrious birth; "Erat in Caninefatibus stolidae audaciae Brinio
claritate natalium insigni."

The patronizing manner in which the Ambassador alluded to the other
member of the States-General who opposed the decree was still more
diverting. It was "Grotius, the Pensioner of Rotterdam, a young petulant
brain, not unknown to your Majesty," said Carleton.

Two centuries and a half have rolled away, and there are few majesties,
few nations, and few individuals to whom the name of that petulant youth
is unknown; but how many are familiar with the achievements of the able
representative of King James?

Nothing came of the measure, however, and the offer of course helped the
circulation of the pamphlet.

It is amusing to see the ferocity thus exhibited by the royal pamphleteer
against a rival; especially when one can find no crime in 'The Balance'
save a stinging and well-merited criticism of a very stupid oration.

Gillis van Ledenberg was generally supposed to be the author of it.
Carleton inclined, however, to suspect Grotius, "because," said he,
"having always before been a stranger to my house, he has made me the day
before the publication thereof a complimentary visit, although it was
Sunday and church time; whereby the Italian proverb, 'Chi ti caresse piu
che suole,' &c.,' is added to other likelihoods."

It was subsequently understood however that the pamphlet was written by a
Remonstrant preacher of Utrecht, named Jacobus Taurinus; one of those who
had been doomed to death by the mutinous government in that city seven
years before.

It was now sufficiently obvious that either the governments in the three
opposition provinces must be changed or that the National Synod must be
imposed by a strict majority vote in the teeth of the constitution and of
vigorous and eloquent protests drawn up by the best lawyers in the
country. The Advocate and Grotius recommended a provincial synod first
and, should that not succeed in adjusting the differences of church
government, then the convocation of a general or oecumenical synod. They
resisted the National Synod because, in their view, the Provinces were
not a nation. A league of seven sovereign and independent Mates was all
that legally existed in the Netherlands. It was accordingly determined
that the governments should be changed, and the Stadholder set himself to
prepare the way for a thorough and, if possible, a bloodless revolution.
He departed on the 27th November for a tour through the chief cities, and
before leaving the Hague addressed an earnest circular letter to the
various municipalities of Holland.

A more truly dignified, reasonable, right royal letter, from the
Stadholder's point of view, could not have been indited. The Imperial
"we" breathing like a morning breeze through the whole of it blew away
all legal and historical mistiness.

But the clouds returned again nevertheless. Unfortunately for Maurice it
could not be argued by the pen, however it might be proved by the sword,
that the Netherlands constituted a nation, and that a convocation of
doctors of divinity summoned by a body of envoys had the right to dictate
a creed to seven republics.

All parties were agreed on one point. There must be unity of divine
worship. The territory of the Netherlands was not big enough to hold two
systems of religion, two forms of Christianity, two sects of
Protestantism. It was big enough to hold seven independent and sovereign
states, but would be split into fragments--resolved into chaos--should
there be more than one Church or if once a schism were permitted in that
Church. Grotius was as much convinced of this as Gomarus. And yet the
13th Article of the Union stared them all in the face, forbidding the
hideous assumptions now made by the general government. Perhaps no man
living fully felt its import save Barneveld alone. For groping however
dimly and hesitatingly towards the idea of religious liberty, of general
toleration, he was denounced as a Papist, an atheist, a traitor, a
miscreant, by the fanatics for the sacerdotal and personal power. Yet it
was a pity that he could never contemplate the possibility of his
country's throwing off the swaddling clothes of provincialism which had
wrapped its infancy. Doubtless history, law, tradition, and usage pointed
to the independent sovereignty of each province. Yet the period of the
Truce was precisely the time when a more generous constitution, a
national incorporation might have been constructed to take the place of
the loose confederacy by which the gigantic war had been fought out.
After all, foreign powers had no connection with the States, and knew
only the Union with which and with which alone they made treaties, and
the reality of sovereignty in each province was as ridiculous as in
theory it was impregnable. But Barneveld, under the modest title of
Advocate of one province, had been in reality president and prime
minister of the whole commonwealth. He had himself been the union and the
sovereignty. It was not wonderful that so imperious a nature objected to
transfer its powers to the Church, to the States-General, or to Maurice.

Moreover, when nationality assumed the unlovely form of rigid religious
uniformity; when Union meant an exclusive self-governed Church enthroned
above the State, responsible to no civic authority and no human law, the
boldest patriot might shiver at emerging from provincialism.




CHAPTER XV.

   The Commonwealth bent on Self-destruction--Evils of a Confederate
   System of Government--Rem Bischop's House sacked--Aerssens'
   unceasing Efforts against Barneveld--The Advocate's Interview with
   Maurice--The States of Utrecht raise the Troops--The Advocate at
   Utrecht--Barneveld urges mutual Toleration--Barneveld accused of
   being Partisan of Spain--Carleton takes his Departure.

It is not cheerful after widely contemplating the aspect of Christendom
in the year of supreme preparation to examine with the minuteness
absolutely necessary the narrow theatre to which the political affairs of
the great republic had been reduced.

That powerful commonwealth, to which the great party of the Reformation
naturally looked for guidance in the coming conflict, seemed bent on
self-destruction. The microcosm of the Netherlands now represented, alas!
the war of elements going on without on a world-wide scale. As the
Calvinists and Lutherans of Germany were hotly attacking each other even
in sight of the embattled front of Spain and the League, so the Gomarites
and the Arminians by their mutual rancour were tearing the political
power of the Dutch Republic to shreds and preventing her from assuming a
great part in the crisis. The consummate soldier, the unrivalled
statesman, each superior in his sphere to any contemporary rival, each
supplementing the other, and making up together, could they have been
harmonized, a double head such as no political organism then existing
could boast, were now in hopeless antagonism to each other. A mass of
hatred had been accumulated against the Advocate with which he found it
daily more and more difficult to struggle. The imperious, rugged, and
suspicious nature of the Stadholder had been steadily wrought upon by the
almost devilish acts of Francis Aerssens until he had come to look upon
his father's most faithful adherent, his own early preceptor in
statesmanship and political supporter, as an antagonist, a conspirator,
and a tyrant.

The soldier whose unrivalled ability, experience, and courage in the
field should have placed him at the very head of the great European army
of defence against the general crusade upon Protestantism, so constantly
foretold by Barneveld, was now to be engaged in making bloodless but
mischievous warfare against an imaginary conspiracy and a patriot foe.

The Advocate, keeping steadily in view the great principles by which his
political life had been guided, the supremacy of the civil authority in
any properly organized commonwealth over the sacerdotal and military,
found himself gradually forced into mortal combat with both. To the
individual sovereignty of each province he held with the tenacity of a
lawyer and historian. In that he found the only clue through the
labyrinth which ecclesiastical and political affairs presented. So close
was the tangle, so confused the medley, that without this slender guide
all hope of legal issue seemed lost.

No doubt the difficulty of the doctrine of individual sovereignty was
great, some of the provinces being such slender morsels of territory,
with resources so trivial, as to make the name of sovereignty ludicrous.
Yet there could be as little doubt that no other theory was tenable. If
so powerful a mind as that of the Advocate was inclined to strain the
theory to its extreme limits, it was because in the overshadowing
superiority of the one province Holland had been found the practical
remedy for the imbecility otherwise sure to result from such provincial
and meagre federalism.

Moreover, to obtain Union by stretching all the ancient historical
privileges and liberties of the separate provinces upon the Procrustean
bed of a single dogma, to look for nationality only in common subjection
to an infallible priesthood, to accept a Catechism as the palladium upon
which the safety of the State was to depend for all time, and beyond
which there was to be no further message from Heaven--such was not
healthy constitutionalism in the eyes of a great statesman. No doubt that
without the fervent spirit of Calvinism it would have been difficult to
wage war with such immortal hate as the Netherlands had waged it, no
doubt the spirit of republican and even democratic liberty lay hidden
within that rigid husk, but it was dishonour to the martyrs who had died
by thousands at the stake and on the battle field for the rights of
conscience if the only result of their mighty warfare against wrong had
been to substitute a new dogma for an old one, to stifle for ever the
right of free enquiry, theological criticism, and the hope of further
light from on high, and to proclaim it a libel on the Republic that
within its borders all heretics, whether Arminian or Papist, were safe
from the death penalty or even from bodily punishment. A theological
union instead of a national one and obtained too at the sacrifice of
written law and immemorial tradition, a congress in which clerical
deputations from all the provinces and from foreign nations should
prescribe to all Netherlanders an immutable creed and a shadowy
constitution, were not the true remedies for the evils of confederacy,
nor, if they had been, was the time an appropriate one for their
application.

It was far too early in the world's history to hope for such
redistribution of powers and such a modification of the social compact as
would place in separate spheres the Church and the State, double the
sanctions and the consolations of religion by removing it from the
pollutions of political warfare, and give freedom to individual
conscience by securing it from the interference of government.

It is melancholy to see the Republic thus perversely occupying its
energies. It is melancholy to see the great soldier becoming gradually
more ardent for battle with Barneveld and Uytenbogaert than with Spinola
and Bucquoy, against whom he had won so many imperishable laurels. It is
still sadder to see the man who had been selected by Henry IV. as the one
statesman of Europe to whom he could confide his great projects for the
pacification of Christendom, and on whom he could depend for counsel and
support in schemes which, however fantastic in some of their details, had
for their object to prevent the very European war of religion against
which Barneveld had been struggling, now reduced to defend himself
against suspicion hourly darkening and hatred growing daily more insane.

The eagle glance and restless wing, which had swept the whole political
atmosphere, now caged within the stifling limits of theological casuistry
and personal rivalry were afflicting to contemplate.

The evils resulting from a confederate system of government, from a
league of petty sovereignties which dared not become a nation, were as
woefully exemplified in the United Provinces as they were destined to be
more than a century and a half later, and in another hemisphere, before
that most fortunate and sagacious of written political instruments, the
American Constitution of 1787, came to remedy the weakness of the old
articles of Union.

Meantime the Netherlands were a confederacy, not a nation. Their general
government was but a committee.

It could ask of, but not command, the separate provinces. It had no
dealings with nor power over the inhabitants of the country; it could say
"Thou shalt" neither to state nor citizen; it could consult only with
corporations--fictitious and many-headed personages--itself incorporate.
There was no first magistrate, no supreme court, no commander-in-chief,
no exclusive mint nor power of credit, no national taxation, no central
house of representation and legislation, no senate. Unfortunately it had
one church, and out of this single matrix of centralism was born more
discord than had been produced by all the centrifugal forces of
provincialism combined.

There had been working substitutes found, as we well know, for the
deficiencies of this constitution, but the Advocate felt himself bound to
obey and enforce obedience to the laws and privileges of his country so
long as they remained without authorized change. His country was the
Province of Holland, to which his allegiance was due and whose servant he
was. That there was but one church paid and sanctioned by law, he
admitted, but his efforts were directed to prevent discord within that
church, by counselling moderation, conciliation, mutual forbearance, and
abstention from irritating discussion of dogmas deemed by many thinkers
and better theologians than himself not essential to salvation. In this
he was much behind his age or before it. He certainly was not with the
majority.

And thus, while the election of Ferdinand had given the signal of war all
over Christendom, while from the demolished churches in Bohemia the
tocsin was still sounding, whose vibrations were destined to be heard a
generation long through the world, there was less sympathy felt with the
call within the territory of the great republic of Protestantism than
would have seemed imaginable a few short years before. The capture of the
Cloister Church at the Hague in the summer of 1617 seemed to minds
excited by personal rivalries and minute theological controversy a more
momentous event than the destruction of the churches in the Klostergrab
in the following December. The triumph of Gomarism in a single Dutch city
inspired more enthusiasm for the moment than the deadly buffet to
European Protestantism could inspire dismay.

The church had been carried and occupied, as it were, by force, as if an
enemy's citadel. It seemed necessary to associate the idea of practical
warfare with a movement which might have been a pacific clerical success.
Barneveld and those who acted with him, while deploring the intolerance
out of which the schism had now grown to maturity, had still hoped for
possible accommodation of the quarrel. They dreaded popular tumults
leading to oppression of the magistracy by the mob or the soldiery and
ending in civil war. But what was wanted by the extreme partisans on
either side was not accommodation but victory.

"Religious differences are causing much trouble and discontents in many
cities," he said. "At Amsterdam there were in the past week two
assemblages of boys and rabble which did not disperse without violence,
crime, and robbery. The brother of Professor Episcopius (Rem Bischop) was
damaged to the amount of several thousands. We are still hoping that some
better means of accommodation may be found."

The calmness with which the Advocate spoke of these exciting and painful
events is remarkable. It was exactly a week before the date of his letter
that this riot had taken place at Amsterdam; very significant in its
nature and nearly tragical in its results. There were no Remonstrant
preachers left in the city, and the people of that persuasion were
excluded from the Communion service. On Sunday morning, 17th February
(1617), a furious mob set upon the house of Rem Bischop, a highly
respectable and wealthy citizen, brother of the Remonstrant professor
Episcopius, of Leyden. The house, an elegant mansion in one of the
principal streets, was besieged and after an hour's resistance carried by
storm. The pretext of the assault was that Arminian preaching was going
on within its walls, which was not the fact. The mistress of the house,
half clad, attempted to make her escape by the rear of the building, was
pursued by the rabble with sticks and stones, and shrieks of "Kill the
Arminian harlot, strike her dead," until she fortunately found refuge in
the house of a neighbouring carpenter. There the hunted creature fell
insensible on the ground, the master of the house refusing to give her
up, though the maddened mob surged around it, swearing that if the
"Arminian harlot"--as respectable a matron as lived in the city--were not
delivered over to them, they would tear the house to pieces. The hope of
plunder and of killing Rem Bischop himself drew them at last back to his
mansion. It was thoroughly sacked; every portable article of value,
linen, plate, money, furniture, was carried off, the pictures and objects
of art destroyed, the house gutted from top to bottom. A thousand
spectators were looking on placidly at the work of destruction as they
returned from church, many of them with Bible and Psalm-book in their
hands. The master effected his escape over the roof into an adjoining
building. One of the ringleaders, a carpenter by trade, was arrested
carrying an armful of valuable plunder. He was asked by the magistrate
why he had entered the house. "Out of good zeal," he replied; "to help
beat and kill the Arminians who were holding conventicle there." He was
further asked why he hated the Arminians so much. "Are we to suffer such
folk here," he replied, "who preach the vile doctrine that God has
created one man for damnation and another for salvation?"--thus ascribing
the doctrine of the church of which he supposed himself a member to the
Arminians whom he had been plundering and wished to kill.

Rem Bischop received no compensation for the damage and danger; the
general cry in the town being that the money he was receiving from
Barneveld and the King of Spain would make him good even if not a stone
of the house had been left standing. On the following Thursday two elders
of the church council waited upon and informed him that he must in future
abstain from the Communion service.

It may well be supposed that the virtual head of the government liked not
the triumph of mob law, in the name of religion, over the civil
authority. The Advocate was neither democrat nor demagogue. A lawyer, a
magistrate, and a noble, he had but little sympathy with the humbler
classes, which he was far too much in the habit of designating as rabble
and populace. Yet his anger was less against them than against the
priests, the foreigners, the military and diplomatic mischief-makers, by
whom they were set upon to dangerous demonstrations. The old patrician
scorned the arts by which highborn demagogues in that as in every age
affect adulation for inferiors whom they despise. It was his instinct to
protect, and guide the people, in whom he recognized no chartered nor
inherent right to govern. It was his resolve, so long as breath was in
him, to prevent them from destroying life and property and subverting the
government under the leadership of an inflamed priesthood.

It was with this intention, as we have just seen, and in order to avoid
bloodshed, anarchy, and civil war in the streets of every town and
village, that a decisive but in the Advocate's opinion a perfectly legal
step had been taken by the States of Holland. It had become necessary to
empower the magistracies of towns to defend themselves by enrolled troops
against mob violence and against an enforced synod considered by great
lawyers as unconstitutional.

Aerssens resided in Zealand, and the efforts of that ex-ambassador were
unceasing to excite popular animosity against the man he hated and to
trouble the political waters in which no man knew better than he how to
cast the net.

"The States of Zealand," said the Advocate to the ambassador in London,
"have a deputation here about the religious differences, urging the
holding of a National Synod according to the King's letters, to which
some other provinces and some of the cities of Holland incline. The
questions have not yet been defined by a common synod, so that a national
one could make no definition, while the particular synods and clerical
personages are so filled with prejudices and so bound by mutual
engagements of long date as to make one fear an unfruitful issue. We are
occupied upon this point in our assembly of Holland to devise some
compromise and to discover by what means these difficulties may be
brought into a state of tranquillity."

It will be observed that in all these most private and confidential
utterances of the Advocate a tone of extreme moderation, an anxious wish
to save the Provinces from dissensions, dangers, and bloodshed, is
distinctly visible. Never is he betrayed into vindictive, ambitious, or
self-seeking expressions, while sometimes, although rarely, despondent in
mind. Nor was his opposition to a general synod absolute. He was probably
persuaded however, as we have just seen, that it should of necessity be
preceded by provincial ones, both in due regard to the laws of the land
and to the true definition of the points to be submitted to its decision.
He had small hope of a successful result from it.

The British king gave him infinite distress. As towards France so towards
England the Advocate kept steadily before him the necessity of deferring
to powerful sovereigns whose friendship was necessary to the republic he
served, however misguided, perverse, or incompetent those monarchs might
be.

"I had always hoped," he said, "that his Majesty would have adhered to
his original written advice, that such questions as these ought to be
quietly settled by authority of law and not by ecclesiastical persons,
and I still hope that his Majesty's intention is really to that effect,
although he speaks of synods."

A month later he felt even more encouraged. "The last letter of his
Majesty concerning our religious questions," he said, "has given rise to
various constructions, but the best advised, who have peace and unity at
heart, understand the King's intention to be to conserve the state of
these Provinces and the religion in its purity. My hope is that his
Majesty's good opinion will be followed and adopted according to the most
appropriate methods."

Can it be believed that the statesman whose upright patriotism,
moderation, and nobleness of purpose thus breathed through every word
spoken by him in public or whispered to friends was already held up by a
herd of ravening slanderers to obloquy as a traitor and a tyrant?

He was growing old and had suffered much from illness during this
eventful summer, but his anxiety for the Commonwealth, caused by these
distressing and superfluous squabbles, were wearing into him more deeply
than years or disease could do.

"Owing to my weakness and old age I can't go up-stairs as well as I
used," he said,--[Barneveld to Caron 31 July and 21 Aug. 1617. (H. Arch.
MS.)]--"and these religious dissensions cause me sometimes such
disturbance of mind as will ere long become intolerable, because of my
indisposition and because of the cry of my heart at the course people are
pursuing here. I reflect that at the time of Duke Casimir and the Prince
of Chimay exactly such a course was held in Flanders and in Lord
Leicester's time in the city of Utrecht, as is best known to yourself. My
hope is fixed on the Lord God Almighty, and that He will make those well
ashamed who are laying anything to heart save his honour and glory and
the welfare of our country with maintenance of its freedom and laws. I
mean unchangeably to live and die for them . . . . Believe firmly that
all representations to the contrary are vile calumnies."

Before leaving for Vianen in the middle of August of this year (1617) the
Advocate had an interview with the Prince. There had been no open rupture
between them, and Barneveld was most anxious to avoid a quarrel with one
to whose interests and honour he had always been devoted. He did not
cling to power nor office. On the contrary, he had repeatedly importuned
the States to accept his resignation, hoping that perhaps these unhappy
dissensions might be quieted by his removal from the scene. He now told
the Prince that the misunderstanding between them arising from these
religious disputes was so painful to his heart that he would make and had
made every possible effort towards conciliation and amicable settlement
of the controversy. He saw no means now, he said, of bringing about
unity, unless his Excellency were willing to make some proposition for
arrangement. This he earnestly implored the Prince to do, assuring him of
his sincere and upright affection for him and his wish to support such
measures to the best of his ability and to do everything for the
furtherance of his reputation and necessary authority. He was so desirous
of this result, he said, that he would propose now as he did at the time
of the Truce negotiations to lay down all his offices, leaving his
Excellency to guide the whole course of affairs according to his best
judgment. He had already taken a resolution, if no means of accommodation
were possible, to retire to his Gunterstein estate and there remain till
the next meeting of the assembly; when he would ask leave to retire for
at least a year; in order to occupy himself with a revision and collation
of the charters, laws, and other state papers of the country which were
in his keeping, and which it was needful to bring into an orderly
condition. Meantime some scheme might be found for arranging the
religious differences, more effective than any he had been able to
devise.

His appeal seems to have glanced powerlessly upon the iron reticence of
Maurice, and the Advocate took his departure disheartened. Later in the
autumn, so warm a remonstrance was made to him by the leading nobles and
deputies of Holland against his contemplated withdrawal from his post
that it seemed a dereliction of duty on his part to retire. He remained
to battle with the storm and to see "with anguish of heart," as he
expressed it, the course religious affairs were taking.

The States of Utrecht on the 26th August resolved that on account of the
gathering of large masses of troops in the countries immediately
adjoining their borders, especially in the Episcopate of Cologne, by aid
of Spanish money, it was expedient for them to enlist a protective force
of six companies of regular soldiers in order to save the city from
sudden and overwhelming attack by foreign troops.

Even if the danger from without were magnified in this preamble, which is
by no means certain, there seemed to be no doubt on the subject in the
minds of the magistrates. They believed that they had the right to
protect and that they were bound to protect their ancient city from
sudden assault, whether by Spanish soldiers or by organized mobs
attempting, as had been done in Rotterdam, Oudewater, and other towns, to
overawe the civil authority in the interest of the Contra-Remonstrants.

Six nobles of Utrecht were accordingly commissioned to raise the troops.
A week later they had been enlisted, sworn to obey in all things the
States of Utrecht, and to take orders from no one else. Three days later
the States of Utrecht addressed a letter to their Mightinesses the
States-General and to his Excellency the Prince, notifying them that for
the reasons stated in the resolution cited the six companies had been
levied. There seemed in these proceedings to be no thought of mutiny or
rebellion, the province considering itself as acting within its
unquestionable rights as a sovereign state and without any exaggeration
of the imperious circumstances of the case.

Nor did the States-General and the Stadholder at that moment affect to
dispute the rights of Utrecht, nor raise a doubt as to the legality of
the proceedings. The committee sent thither by the States-General, the
Prince, and the council of state in their written answer to the letter of
the Utrecht government declared the reasons given for the enrolment of
the six companies to be insufficient and the measure itself highly
dangerous. They complained, but in very courteous language, that the
soldiers had been levied without giving the least notice thereof to the
general government, without asking its advice, or waiting for any
communication from it, and they reminded the States of Utrecht that they
might always rely upon the States-General and his Excellency, who were
still ready, as they had been seven years before (1610), to protect them
against every enemy and any danger.

The conflict between a single province of the confederacy and the
authority of the general government had thus been brought to a direct
issue; to the test of arms. For, notwithstanding the preamble to the
resolution of the Utrecht Assembly just cited, there could be little
question that the resolve itself was a natural corollary of the famous
"Sharp Resolution," passed by the States of Holland three weeks before.
Utrecht was in arms to prevent, among other things at least, the forcing
upon them by a majority of the States-General of the National Synod to
which they were opposed, the seizure of churches by the
Contra-Remonstrants, and the destruction of life and property by inflamed
mobs.

There is no doubt that Barneveld deeply deplored the issue, but that he
felt himself bound to accept it. The innate absurdity of a constitutional
system under which each of the seven members was sovereign and
independent and the head was at the mercy of the members could not be
more flagrantly illustrated. In the bloody battles which seemed impending
in the streets of Utrecht and in all the principal cities of the
Netherlands between the soldiers of sovereign states and soldiers of a
general government which was not sovereign, the letter of the law and the
records of history were unquestionably on the aide of the provincial and
against the general authority. Yet to nullify the authority of the
States-General by force of arms at this supreme moment was to stultify
all government whatever. It was an awful dilemma, and it is difficult
here fully to sympathize with the Advocate, for he it was who inspired,
without dictating, the course of the Utrecht proceedings.

With him patriotism seemed at this moment to dwindle into provincialism,
the statesman to shrink into the lawyer.

Certainly there was no guilt in the proceedings. There was no crime in
the heart of the Advocate. He had exhausted himself with appeals in
favour of moderation, conciliation, compromise. He had worked night and
day with all the energy of a pure soul and a great mind to assuage
religious hatreds and avert civil dissensions. He was overpowered. He had
frequently desired to be released from all his functions, but as dangers
thickened over the Provinces, he felt it his duty so long as he remained
at his post to abide by the law as the only anchor in the storm. Not
rising in his mind to the height of a national idea, and especially
averse from it when embodied in the repulsive form of religious
uniformity, he did not shrink from a contest which he had not provoked,
but had done his utmost to avert. But even then he did not anticipate
civil war. The enrolling of the Waartgelders was an armed protest, a
symbol of legal conviction rather than a serious effort to resist the
general government. And this is the chief justification of his course
from a political point of view. It was ridiculous to suppose that with a
few hundred soldiers hastily enlisted--and there were less than 1800
Waartgelders levied throughout the Provinces and under the orders of
civil magistrates--a serious contest was intended against a splendidly
disciplined army of veteran troops, commanded by the first general of the
age.

From a legal point of view Barneveld considered his position impregnable.

The controversy is curious, especially for Americans, and for all who are
interested in the analysis of federal institutions and of republican
principles, whether aristocratic or democratic. The States of Utrecht
replied in decorous but firm language to the committee of the
States-General that they had raised the six companies in accordance with
their sovereign right so to do, and that they were resolved to maintain
them. They could not wait as they had been obliged to do in the time of
the Earl of Leicester and more recently in 1610 until they had been
surprised and overwhelmed by the enemy before the States-General and his
Excellency the Prince could come to their rescue. They could not suffer
all the evils of tumults, conspiracies, and foreign invasion, without
defending themselves.

Making use, they said, of the right of sovereignty which in their
province belonged to them alone, they thought it better to prevent in
time and by convenient means such fire and mischief than to look on while
it kindled and spread into a conflagration, and to go about imploring aid
from their fellow confederates who, God better it, had enough in these
times to do at home. This would only be to bring them as well as this
province into trouble, disquiet, and expense. "My Lords the States of
Utrecht have conserved and continually exercised this right of
sovereignty in its entireness ever since renouncing the King of Spain.
Every contract, ordinance, and instruction of the States-General has been
in conformity with it, and the States of Utrecht are convinced that the
States of not one of their confederate provinces would yield an atom of
its sovereignty."

They reminded the general government that by the 1st article of the
"Closer Union" of Utrecht, on which that assembly was founded, it was
bound to support the States of the respective provinces and strengthen
them with counsel, treasure, and blood if their respective rights, more
especially their individual sovereignty, the most precious of all, should
be assailed. To refrain from so doing would be to violate a solemn
contract. They further reminded the council of state that by its
institution the States-Provincial had not abdicated their respective
sovereignties, but had reserved it in all matters not specifically
mentioned in the original instruction by which it was created.

Two days afterwards Arnold van Randwyck and three other commissioners
were instructed by the general government to confer with the States of
Utrecht, to tell them that their reply was deemed unsatisfactory, that
their reasons for levying soldiers in times when all good people should
be seeking to restore harmony and mitigate dissension were insufficient,
and to request them to disband those levies without prejudice in so doing
to the laws and liberties of the province and city of Utrecht.

Here was perhaps an opening for a compromise, the instruction being not
without ingenuity, and the word sovereignty in regard either to the
general government or the separate provinces being carefully omitted.
Soon afterwards, too, the States-General went many steps farther in the
path of concession, for they made another appeal to the government of
Utrecht to disband the Waartgelders on the ground of expediency, and in
so doing almost expressly admitted the doctrine of provincial
sovereignty. It is important in regard to subsequent events to observe
this virtual admission.

"Your Honours lay especial stress upon the right of sovereignty as
belonging to you alone in your province," they said, "and dispute
therefore at great length upon the power and authority of the Generality,
of his Excellency, and of the state council. But you will please to
consider that there is here no question of this, as our commissioners had
no instructions to bring this into dispute in the least, and most
certainly have not done so. We have only in effect questioned whether
that which one has an undoubted right to do can at all times be
appropriately and becomingly done, whether it was fitting that your
Honours, contrary to custom, should undertake these new levies upon a
special oath and commission, and effectively complete the measure without
giving the slightest notice thereof to the Generality."

It may fairly be said that the question in debate was entirely conceded
in this remarkable paper, which was addressed by the States-General, the
Prince-Stadholder, and the council of state to the government of Utrecht.
It should be observed, too, that while distinctly repudiating the
intention of disputing the sovereignty of that province, they carefully
abstain from using the word in relation to themselves, speaking only of
the might and authority of the Generality, the Prince, and the council.

There was now a pause in the public discussion. The soldiers were not
disbanded, as the States of Utrecht were less occupied with establishing
the soundness of their theory than with securing its practical results.
They knew very well, and the Advocate knew very well, that the intention
to force a national synod by a majority vote of the Assembly of the
States-General existed more strongly than ever, and they meant to resist
it to the last. The attempt was in their opinion an audacious violation
of the fundamental pact on which the Confederacy was founded. Its success
would be to establish the sacerdotal power in triumph over the civil
authority.

During this period the Advocate was resident in Utrecht. For change of
air, ostensibly at least, he had absented himself from the seat of
government, and was during several weeks under the hands of his old
friend and physician Dr. Saul. He was strictly advised to abstain
altogether from political business, but he might as well have attempted
to abstain from food and drink. Gillis van Ledenberg, secretary of the
States of Utrecht, visited him frequently. The proposition to enlist the
Waartgelders had been originally made in the Assembly by its president,
and warmly seconded by van Ledenberg, who doubtless conferred afterwards
with Barneveld in person, but informally and at his lodgings.

It was almost inevitable that this should be the case, nor did the
Advocate make much mystery as to the course of action which he deemed
indispensable at this period. Believing it possible that some sudden and
desperate attempt might be made by evil disposed people, he agreed with
the States of Utrecht in the propriety of taking measures of precaution.
They were resolved not to look quietly on while soldiers and rabble under
guidance perhaps of violent Contra-Remonstrant preachers took possession
of the churches and even of the city itself, as had already been done in
several towns.

The chief practical object of enlisting the six companies was that the
city might be armed against popular tumults, and they feared that the
ordinary military force might be withdrawn.

When Captain Hartvelt, in his own name and that of the other officers of
those companies, said that they were all resolved never to use their
weapons against the Stadholder or the States-General, he was answered
that they would never be required to do so. They, however, made oath to
serve against those who should seek to trouble the peace of the Province
of Utrecht in ecclesiastical or political matters, and further against
all enemies of the common country. At the same time it was deemed
expedient to guard against a surprise of any kind and to keep watch and
ward.

"I cannot quite believe in the French companies," said the Advocate in a
private billet to Ledenberg. "It would be extremely well that not only
good watch should be kept at the city gates, but also that one might from
above and below the river Lek be assuredly advised from the nearest
cities if any soldiers are coming up or down, and that the same might be
done in regard to Amersfoort." At the bottom of this letter, which was
destined to become historical and will be afterwards referred to, the
Advocate wrote, as he not unfrequently did, upon his private notes, "When
read, burn, and send me back the two enclosed letters."

The letter lies in the Archives unburned to this day, but, harmless as it
looked, it was to serve as a nail in more than one coffin.

In his confidential letters to trusted friends he complained of "great
physical debility growing out of heavy sorrow," and described himself as
entering upon his seventy-first year and no longer fit for hard political
labour. The sincere grief, profound love of country, and desire that some
remedy might be found for impending disaster, is stamped upon all his
utterances whether official or secret.

"The troubles growing out of the religious differences," he said, "are
running into all sorts of extremities. It is feared that an attempt will
be made against the laws of the land through extraordinary ways, and by
popular tumults to take from the supreme authority of the respective
provinces the right to govern clerical persons and regulate clerical
disputes, and to place it at the disposition of ecclesiastics and of a
National Synod.

"It is thought too that the soldiers will be forbidden to assist the
civil supreme power and the government of cities in defending themselves
from acts of violence which under pretext of religion will be attempted
against the law and the commands of the magistrates.

"This seems to conflict with the common law of the respective provinces,
each of which from all times had right of sovereignty and supreme
authority within its territory and specifically reserved it in all
treaties and especially in that of the Nearer Union . . . . The provinces
have always regulated clerical matters each for itself. The Province of
Utrecht, which under the pretext of religion is now most troubled, made
stipulations to this effect, when it took his Excellency for governor,
even more stringent than any others. As for Holland, she never imagined
that one could ever raise a question on the subject . . . . All good men
ought to do their best to prevent the enemies to the welfare of these
Provinces from making profit out of our troubles."

The whole matter he regarded as a struggle between the clergy and the
civil power for mastery over the state, as an attempt to subject
provincial autonomy to the central government purely in the interest of
the priesthood of a particular sect. The remedy he fondly hoped for was
moderation and union within the Church itself. He could never imagine the
necessity for this ferocious animosity not only between Christians but
between two branches of the Reformed Church. He could never be made to
believe that the Five Points of the Remonstrance had dug an abyss too
deep and wide ever to be bridged between brethren lately of one faith as
of one fatherland. He was unceasing in his prayers and appeals for
"mutual toleration on the subject of predestination." Perhaps the
bitterness, almost amounting to frenzy, with which abstruse points of
casuistry were then debated, and which converted differences of opinion
upon metaphysical divinity into deadly hatred and thirst for blood, is
already obsolete or on the road to become so. If so, then was Barneveld
in advance of his age, and it would have been better for the peace of the
world and the progress of Christianity if more of his contemporaries had
placed themselves on his level.

He was no theologian, but he believed himself to be a Christian, and he
certainly was a thoughtful and a humble one. He had not the arrogance to
pierce behind the veil and assume to read the inscrutable thoughts of the
Omnipotent. It was a cruel fate that his humility upon subjects which he
believed to be beyond the scope of human reason should have been tortured
by his enemies into a crime, and that because he hoped for religious
toleration he should be accused of treason to the Commonwealth.

"Believe and cause others to believe," he said, "that I am and with the
grace of God hope to continue an upright patriot as I have proved myself
to be in these last forty-two years spent in the public service. In the
matter of differential religious points I remain of the opinions which I
have held for more than fifty years, and in which I hope to live and die,
to wit, that a good Christian man ought to believe that he is predestined
to eternal salvation through God's grace, giving for reasons that he
through God's grace has a firm belief that his salvation is founded
purely on God's grace and the expiation of our sins through our Saviour
Jesus Christ, and that if he should fall into any sins his firm trust is
that God will not let him perish in them, but mercifully turn him to
repentance, so that he may continue in the same belief to the last."

These expressions were contained in a letter to Caron with the intention
doubtless that they should be communicated to the King of Great Britain,
and it is a curious illustration of the spirit of the age, this picture
of the leading statesman of a great republic unfolding his religious
convictions for private inspection by the monarch of an allied nation.
More than anything else it exemplifies the close commixture of theology,
politics, and diplomacy in that age, and especially in those two
countries.

Formerly, as we have seen, the King considered a too curious fathoming of
divine mysteries as highly reprehensible, particularly for the common
people. Although he knew more about them than any one else, he avowed
that even his knowledge in this respect was not perfect. It was matter of
deep regret with the Advocate that his Majesty had not held to his former
positions, and that he had disowned his original letters.

"I believe my sentiments thus expressed," he said, "to be in accordance
with Scripture, and I have always held to them without teasing my brains
with the precise decrees of reprobation, foreknowledge, or the like, as
matters above my comprehension. I have always counselled Christian
moderation. The States of Holland have followed the spirit of his
Majesty's letters, but our antagonists have rejected them and with
seditious talk, sermons, and the spreading of infamous libels have
brought matters to their present condition. There have been excesses on
the other side as well."

He then made a slight, somewhat shadowy allusion to schemes known to be
afloat for conferring the sovereignty upon Maurice. We have seen that at
former periods he had entertained this subject and discussed it privately
with those who were not only friendly but devoted to the Stadholder, and
that he had arrived at the conclusion that it would not be for the
interest of the Prince to encourage the project. Above all he was sternly
opposed to the idea of attempting to compass it by secret intrigue.
Should such an arrangement be publicly discussed and legally completed,
it would not meet with his unconditional opposition.

"The Lord God knows," he said, "whether underneath all these movements
does not lie the design of the year 1600, well known to you. As for me,
believe that I am and by God's grace hope to remain, what I always was,
an upright patriot, a defender of the true Christian religion, of the
public authority, and of all the power that has been and in future may be
legally conferred upon his Excellency. Believe that all things said,
written, or spread to the contrary are falsehoods and calumnies."

He was still in Utrecht, but about to leave for the Hague, with health
somewhat improved and in better spirits in regard to public matters.

"Although I have entered my seventy-first year," he said, "I trust still
to be of some service to the Commonwealth and to my friends . . . . Don't
consider an arrangement of our affairs desperate. I hope for better
things."

Soon after his return he was waited upon one Sunday evening, late in
October--being obliged to keep his house on account of continued
indisposition--by a certain solicitor named Nordlingen and informed that
the Prince was about to make a sudden visit to Leyden at four o'clock
next morning.

Barneveld knew that the burgomasters and regents were holding a great
banquet that night, and that many of them would probably have been
indulging in potations too deep to leave them fit for serious business.
The agitation of people's minds at that moment made the visit seem rather
a critical one, as there would probably be a mob collected to see the
Stadholder, and he was anxious both in the interest of the Prince and the
regents and of both religious denominations that no painful incidents
should occur if it was in his power to prevent them.

He was aware that his son-in-law, Cornelis van der Myle, had been invited
to the banquet, and that he was wont to carry his wine discreetly. He
therefore requested Nordlingen to proceed to Leyden that night and seek
an interview with van der Myle without delay. By thus communicating the
intelligence of the expected visit to one who, he felt sure, would do his
best to provide for a respectful and suitable reception of the Prince,
notwithstanding the exhilarated condition in which the magistrates would
probably find themselves, the Advocate hoped to prevent any riot or
tumultuous demonstration of any kind. At least he would act conformably
to his duty and keep his conscience clear should disasters ensue.

Later in the night he learned that Maurice was going not to Leyden but to
Delft, and he accordingly despatched a special messenger to arrive before
dawn at Leyden in order to inform van der Myle of this change in the
Prince's movements. Nothing seemed simpler or more judicious than these
precautions on the part of Barneveld. They could not fail, however, to be
tortured into sedition, conspiracy, and treason.

Towards the end of the year a meeting of the nobles and knights of
Holland under the leadership of Barneveld was held to discuss the famous
Sharp Resolution of 4th August and the letters and arguments advanced
against it by the Stadholder and the council of state. It was unanimously
resolved by this body, in which they were subsequently followed by a
large majority of the States of Holland, to maintain that resolution and
its consequences and to oppose the National Synod. They further resolved
that a legal provincial synod should be convoked by the States of Holland
and under their authority and supervision. The object of such synod
should be to devise "some means of accommodation, mutual toleration, and
Christian settlement of differences in regard to the Five Points in
question."

In case such compromise should unfortunately not be arranged, then it was
resolved to invite to the assembly two or three persons from France, as
many from England, from Germany, and from Switzerland, to aid in the
consultations. Should a method of reconciliation and mutual toleration
still remain undiscovered, then, in consideration that the whole
Christian world was interested in composing these dissensions, it was
proposed that a "synodal assembly of all Christendom," a Protestant
oecumenical council, should in some solemn manner be convoked.

These resolutions and propositions were all brought forward by the
Advocate, and the draughts of them in his handwriting remain. They are
the unimpeachable evidences of his earnest desire to put an end to these
unhappy disputes and disorders in the only way which he considered
constitutional.

Before the close of the year the States of Holland, in accordance with
the foregoing advice of the nobles, passed a resolution, the minutes of
which were drawn up by the hand of the Advocate, and in which they
persisted in their opposition to the National Synod. They declared by a
large majority of votes that the Assembly of the States-General without
the unanimous consent of the Provincial States were not competent
according to the Union of Utrecht--the fundamental law of the General
Assembly--to regulate religious affairs, but that this right belonged to
the separate provinces, each within its own domain.

They further resolved that as they were bound by solemn oath to maintain
the laws and liberties of Holland, they could not surrender this right to
the Generality, nor allow it to be usurped by any one, but in order to
settle the question of the Five Points, the only cause known to them of
the present disturbances, they were content under: their own authority to
convoke a provincial synod within three months, at their own cost, and to
invite the respective provinces, as many of them as thought good, to send
to this meeting a certain number of pious and learned theologians.

It is difficult to see why the course thus unanimously proposed by the
nobles of Holland, under guidance of Barneveld, and subsequently by a
majority of the States of that province, would not have been as expedient
as it was legal. But we are less concerned with that point now than with
the illustrations afforded by these long buried documents of the
patriotism and sagacity of a man than whom no human creature was ever
more foully slandered.

It will be constantly borne in mind that he regarded this religious
controversy purely from a political, legal, and constitutional--and not
from a theological-point of view. He believed that grave danger to the
Fatherland was lurking under this attempt, by the general government, to
usurp the power of dictating the religious creed of all the provinces.
Especially he deplored the evil influence exerted by the King of England
since his abandonment of the principles announced in his famous letter to
the States in the year 1613. All that the Advocate struggled for was
moderation and mutual toleration within the Reformed Church. He felt that
a wider scheme of forbearance was impracticable. If a dream of general
religious equality had ever floated before him or before any one in that
age, he would have felt it to be a dream which would be a reality nowhere
until centuries should have passed away. Yet that moderation, patience,
tolerance, and respect for written law paved the road to that wider and
loftier region can scarcely be doubted.

Carleton, subservient to every changing theological whim of his master,
was as vehement and as insolent now in enforcing the intolerant views of
James as he had previously been in supporting the counsels to tolerance
contained in the original letters of that monarch.

The Ambassador was often at the Advocate's bed-side during his illness
that summer, enforcing, instructing, denouncing, contradicting. He was
never weary of fulfilling his duties of tuition, but the patient
Barneveld; haughty and overbearing as he was often described to be,
rarely used a harsh or vindictive word regarding him in his letters.

"The ambassador of France," he said, "has been heard before the Assembly
of the States-General, and has made warm appeals in favour of union and
mutual toleration as his Majesty of Great Britain so wisely did in his
letters of 1613 . . . . If his Majesty could only be induced to write
fresh letters in similar tone, I should venture to hope better fruits
from them than from this attempt to thrust a national synod upon our
necks, which many of us hold to be contrary to law, reason, and the Act
of Union."

So long as it was possible to hope that the action of the States of
Holland would prevent such a catastrophe, he worked hard to direct them
in what he deemed the right course.

"Our political and religious differences," he said, "stand between hope
and fear."

The hope was in the acceptance of the Provincial Synod--the fear lest the
National Synod should be carried by a minority of the cities of Holland
combining with a majority of the other Provincial States.

"This would be in violation," he said, "of the so-called Religious Peace,
the Act of Union, the treaty with the Duke of Anjou, the negotiations of
the States of Utrecht, and with Prince Maurice in 1590 with cognizance of
the States-General and those of Holland for, the governorship of that
province, the custom of the Generality for the last thirty years
according to which religious matters have always been left to the
disposition of the States of each province . . . . Carleton is
strenuously urging this course in his Majesty's name, and I fear that in
the present state of our humours great troubles will be the result."

The expulsion by an armed mob, in the past year, of a Remonstrant
preacher at Oudewater, the overpowering of the magistracy and the forcing
on of illegal elections in that and other cities, had given him and all
earnest patriots grave cause for apprehension. They were dreading, said
Barneveld, a course of crimes similar to those which under the Earl of
Leicester's government had afflicted Leyden and Utrecht.

"Efforts are incessant to make the Remonstrants hateful," he said to
Caron, "but go forward resolutely and firmly in the conviction that our
friends here are as animated in their opposition to the Spanish dominion
now and by God's grace will so remain as they have ever proved themselves
to be, not only by words, but works. I fear that Mr. Carleton gives too
much belief to the enviers of our peace and tranquillity under pretext of
religion, but it is more from ignorance than malice."

Those who have followed the course of the Advocate's correspondence,
conversation, and actions, as thus far detailed, can judge of the
gigantic nature of the calumny by which he was now assailed. That this
man, into every fibre of whose nature was woven undying hostility to
Spain, as the great foe to national independence and religious liberty
throughout the continent of Europe, whose every effort, as we have seen,
during all these years of nominal peace had been to organize a system of
general European defence against the war now actually begun upon
Protestantism, should be accused of being a partisan of Spain, a creature
of Spain, a pensioner of Spain, was enough to make honest men pray that
the earth might be swallowed up. If such idiotic calumnies could be
believed, what patriot in the world could not be doubted? Yet they were
believed. Barneveld was bought by Spanish gold. He had received whole
boxes full of Spanish pistoles, straight from Brussels! For his part in
the truce negotiations he had received 120,000 ducats in one lump.

"It was plain," said the greatest man in the country to another great
man, "that Barneveld and his party are on the road to Spain."

"Then it were well to have proof of it," said the great man.

"Not yet time," was the reply. "We must flatten out a few of them first."

Prince Maurice had told the Princess-Dowager the winter before (8th
December 1616) that those dissensions would never be decided except by
use of weapons; and he now mentioned to her that he had received
information from Brussels, which he in part believed, that the Advocate
was a stipendiary of Spain. Yet he had once said, to the same Princess
Louise, of this stipendiary that "the services which the Advocate had
rendered to the House of Nassau were so great that all the members of
that house might well look upon him not as their friend but their
father." Councillor van Maldere, President of the States of Zealand, and
a confidential friend of Maurice, was going about the Hague saying that
"one must string up seven or eight Remonstrants on the gallows; then
there might be some improvement."

As for Arminius and Uytenbogaert, people had long told each other and
firmly believed it, and were amazed when any incredulity was expressed in
regard to it, that they were in regular and intimate correspondence with
the Jesuits, that they had received large sums from Rome, and that both
had been promised cardinals' hats. That Barneveld and his friend
Uytenbogaert were regular pensioners of Spain admitted of no dispute
whatever. "It was as true as the Holy Evangel." The ludicrous chatter had
been passed over with absolute disdain by the persons attacked, but
calumny is often a stronger and more lasting power than disdain. It
proved to be in these cases.

"You have the plague mark on your flesh, oh pope, oh pensioner," said one
libeller. "There are letters safely preserved to make your process for
you. Look out for your head. Many have sworn your death, for it is more
than time that you were out of the world. We shall prove, oh great bribed
one, that you had the 120,000 little ducats." The preacher Uytenbogaert
was also said to have had 80,000 ducats for his share. "Go to Brussels,"
said the pamphleteer; "it all stands clearly written out on the register
with the names and surnames of all you great bribe-takers."

These were choice morsels from the lampoon of the notary Danckaerts.

"We are tortured more and more with religious differences," wrote
Barneveld; "with acts of popular violence growing out of them the more
continuously as they remain unpunished, and with ever increasing
jealousies and suspicions. The factious libels become daily more numerous
and more impudent, and no man comes undamaged from the field. I, as a
reward for all my troubles, labours, and sorrows, have three double
portions of them. I hope however to overcome all by God's grace and to
defend my actions with all honourable men so long as right and reason
have place in the world, as to which many begin to doubt. If his Majesty
had been pleased to stick to the letters of 1613, we should never have
got into these difficulties . . . . It were better in my opinion that
Carleton should be instructed to negotiate in the spirit of those
epistles rather than to torment us with the National Synod, which will do
more harm than good."

It is impossible not to notice the simplicity and patience with which the
Advocate, in the discharge of his duty as minister of foreign affairs,
kept the leading envoys of the Republic privately informed of events
which were becoming day by day more dangerous to the public interests and
his own safety. If ever a perfectly quiet conscience was revealed in the
correspondence of a statesman, it was to be found in these letters.

Calmly writing to thank Caron for some very satisfactory English beer
which the Ambassador had been sending him from London, he proceeded to
speak again of the religious dissensions and their consequences. He sent
him the letter and remonstrance which he had felt himself obliged to
make, and which he had been urged by his ever warm and constant friend
the widow of William the Silent to make on the subject of "the seditious
libels, full of lies and calumnies got up by conspiracy against him."
These letters were never published, however, until years after he had
been in his grave.

"I know that you are displeased with the injustice done me," he said,
"but I see no improvement. People are determined to force through the
National Synod. The two last ones did much harm. This will do ten times
more, so intensely embittered are men's tempers against each other."
Again he deplored the King's departure from his letters of 1613, by
adherence to which almost all the troubles would have been spared.

It is curious too to observe the contrast between public opinion in Great
Britain, including its government, in regard to the constitution of the
United Provinces at that period of domestic dissensions and incipient
civil war and the general impressions manifested in the same nation two
centuries and a half later, on the outbreak of the slavery rebellion, as
to the constitution of the United States.

The States in arms against the general government on the other side of
the Atlantic were strangely but not disingenuously assumed to be
sovereign and independent, and many statesmen and a leading portion of
the public justified them in their attempt to shake off the central
government as if it were but a board of agency established by treaty and
terminable at pleasure of any one of among sovereigns and terminable at
pleasure of any one of them.

Yet even a superficial glance at the written constitution of the Republic
showed that its main object was to convert what had been a confederacy
into an Incorporation; and that the very essence of its renewed political
existence was an organic law laid down by a whole people in their
primitive capacity in place of a league banding together a group of
independent little corporations. The chief attributes of sovereignty--the
rights of war and peace, of coinage, of holding armies and navies, of
issuing bills of credit, of foreign relations, of regulating and taxing
foreign commerce--having been taken from the separate States by the
united people thereof and bestowed upon a government provided with a
single executive head, with a supreme tribunal, with a popular house of
representatives and a senate, and with power to deal directly with the
life and property of every individual in the land, it was strange indeed
that the feudal, and in America utterly unmeaning, word Sovereign should
have been thought an appropriate term for the different States which had
fused themselves three-quarters of a century before into a Union.

When it is remembered too that the only dissolvent of this Union was the
intention to perpetuate human slavery, the logic seemed somewhat perverse
by which the separate sovereignty of the States was deduced from the
constitution of 1787.

On the other hand, the Union of Utrecht of 1579 was a league of petty
sovereignties; a compact less binding and more fragile than the Articles
of Union made almost exactly two hundred years later in America, and the
worthlessness of which, after the strain of war was over, had been
demonstrated in the dreary years immediately following the peace of 1783.
One after another certain Netherland provinces had abjured their
allegiance to Spain, some of them afterwards relapsing under it, some
having been conquered by the others, while one of them, Holland, had for
a long time borne the greater part of the expense and burthen of the war.

"Holland," said the Advocate, "has brought almost all the provinces to
their liberty. To receive laws from them or from their clerical people
now is what our State cannot endure. It is against her laws and customs,
in the enjoyment of which the other provinces and his Excellency as
Governor of Holland are bound to protect us."

And as the preservation of chattel slavery in the one case seemed a
legitimate ground for destroying a government which had as definite an
existence as any government known to mankind, so the resolve to impose a
single religious creed upon many millions of individuals was held by the
King and government of Great Britain to be a substantial reason for
imagining a central sovereignty which had never existed at all. This was
still more surprising as the right to dispose of ecclesiastical affairs
and persons had been expressly reserved by the separate provinces in
perfectly plain language in the Treaty of Union.

"If the King were better informed," said Barneveld, "of our system and
laws, we should have better hope than now. But one supposes through
notorious error in foreign countries that the sovereignty stands with the
States-General which is not the case, except in things which by the
Articles of Closer Union have been made common to all the provinces,
while in other matters, as religion, justice, and polity, the sovereignty
remains with each province, which foreigners seem unable to comprehend."

Early in June, Carleton took his departure for England on leave of
absence. He received a present from the States of 3000 florins, and went
over in very ill-humour with Barneveld. "Mr. Ambassador is much offended
and prejudiced," said the Advocate, "but I know that he will religiously
carry out the orders of his Majesty. I trust that his Majesty can admit
different sentiments on predestination and its consequences, and that in
a kingdom where the supreme civil authority defends religion the system
of the Puritans will have no foothold."

Certainly James could not be accused of allowing the system of the
Puritans much foothold in England, but he had made the ingenious
discovery that Puritanism in Holland was a very different thing from
Puritanism in the Netherlands.

     ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

     Acts of violence which under pretext of religion
     Adulation for inferiors whom they despise
     Calumny is often a stronger and more lasting power than disdain
     Created one child for damnation and another for salvation
     Depths of credulity men in all ages can sink
     Devote himself to his gout and to his fair young wife
     Furious mob set upon the house of Rem Bischop
     Highborn demagogues in that as in every age affect adulation
     In this he was much behind his age or before it
     Logic is rarely the quality on which kings pride themselves
     Necessity of deferring to powerful sovereigns
     Not his custom nor that of his councillors to go to bed
     Partisans wanted not accommodation but victory
     Puritanism in Holland was a very different thing from England
     Seemed bent on self-destruction
     Stand between hope and fear
     The evils resulting from a confederate system of government
     To stifle for ever the right of free enquiry




THE LIFE AND DEATH of JOHN OF BARNEVELD, ADVOCATE OF HOLLAND

WITH A VIEW OF THE PRIMARY CAUSES AND MOVEMENTS OF THE THIRTY YEARS' WAR

By John Lothrop Motley, D.C.L., LL.D.

Life and Death of John of Barneveld, v9, 1618




CHAPTER XVI.

   Maurice revolutionizes the Provinces--Danckaert's libellous Pamphlet
   --Barneveld's Appeal to the Prince--Barneveld'a Remonstrance to the
   States--The Stadholder at Amsterdam--The Treaty of Truce nearly
   expired--King of Spain and Archduke Albert--Scheme for recovering
   the Provinces--Secret Plot to make Maurice Sovereign.

Early in the year (1618) Maurice set himself about revolutionizing the
provinces on which he could not yet thoroughly rely. The town of Nymegen
since its recovery from the Spaniards near the close of the preceding
century had held its municipal government, as it were, at the option of
the Prince. During the war he had been, by the terms of surrender,
empowered to appoint and to change its magistracy at will. No change had
occurred for many years, but as the government had of late fallen into
the hands of the Barneveldians, and as Maurice considered the Truce to be
a continuance of the war, he appeared suddenly, in the city at the head
of a body of troops and surrounded by his lifeguard. Summoning the whole
board of magistrates into the townhouse, he gave them all notice to quit,
disbanding them like a company of mutinous soldiery, and immediately
afterwards appointed a fresh list of functionaries in their stead.

This done, he proceeded to Arnhem, where the States of Gelderland were in
session, appeared before that body, and made a brief announcement of the
revolution which he had so succinctly effected in the most considerable
town of their province. The Assembly, which seems, like many other
assemblies at precisely this epoch, to have had an extraordinary capacity
for yielding to gentle violence, made but little resistance to the
extreme measures now undertaken by the Stadholder, and not only highly
applauded the subjugation of Nymegen, but listened with sympathy to his
arguments against the Waartgelders and in favour of the Synod.

Having accomplished so much by a very brief visit to Gelderland, the
Prince proceeded, to Overyssel, and had as little difficulty in bringing
over the wavering minds of that province into orthodoxy and obedience.
Thus there remained but two provinces out of seven that were still
"waartgeldered" and refused to be "synodized."

It was rebellion against rebellion. Maurice and his adherents accused the
States' right party of mutiny against himself and the States-General. The
States' right party accused the Contra-Remonstrants in the cities of
mutiny against the lawful sovereignty of each province.

The oath of the soldiery, since the foundation of the Republic, had been
to maintain obedience and fidelity to the States-General, the Stadholder,
and the province in which they were garrisoned, and at whose expense they
were paid. It was impossible to harmonize such conflicting duties and
doctrines. Theory had done its best and its worst. The time was fast
approaching, as it always must approach, when fact with its violent besom
would brush away the fine-spun cobwebs which had been so long
undisturbed.

"I will grind the Advocate and all his party into fine meal," said the
Prince on one occasion.

A clever caricature of the time represented a pair of scales hung up in a
great hall. In the one was a heap of parchments, gold chains, and
magisterial robes; the whole bundle being marked the "holy right of each
city." In the other lay a big square, solid, ironclasped volume, marked
"Institutes of Calvin." Each scale was respectively watched by Gomarus
and by Arminius. The judges, gowned, furred, and ruffed, were looking
decorously on, when suddenly the Stadholder, in full military attire, was
seen rushing into the apartment and flinging his sword into the scale
with the Institutes.

The civic and legal trumpery was of course made to kick the beam.

Maurice had organized his campaign this year against the Advocate and his
party as deliberately as he had ever arranged the details of a series of
battles and sieges against the Spaniard. And he was proving himself as
consummate master in political strife as in the great science of war.

He no longer made any secret of his conviction that Barneveld was a
traitor to his country, bought with Spanish gold. There was not the
slightest proof for these suspicions, but he asserted them roundly. "The
Advocate is travelling straight to Spain," he said to Count Cuylenborg.
"But we will see who has got the longest purse."

And as if it had been a part of the campaign, a prearranged diversion to
the more direct and general assault on the entrenchments of the States'
right party, a horrible personal onslaught was now made from many
quarters upon the Advocate. It was an age of pamphleteering, of venomous,
virulent, unscrupulous libels. And never even in that age had there been
anything to equal the savage attacks upon this great statesman. It moves
the gall of an honest man, even after the lapse of two centuries and a
half, to turn over those long forgotten pages and mark the depths to
which political and theological party spirit could descend. That human
creatures can assimilate themselves so closely to the reptile, and to the
subtle devil within the reptile, when a party end is to be gained is
enough to make the very name of man a term of reproach.

Day by day appeared pamphlets, each one more poisonous than its
predecessor. There was hardly a crime that was not laid at the door of
Barneveld and all his kindred. The man who had borne a matchlock in early
youth against the foreign tyrant in days when unsuccessful rebellion
meant martyrdom and torture; who had successfully guided the councils of
the infant commonwealth at a period when most of his accusers were in
their cradles, and when mistake was ruin to the republic; he on whose
strong arm the father of his country had leaned for support; the man who
had organized a political system out of chaos; who had laid down the
internal laws, negotiated the great indispensable alliances, directed the
complicated foreign policy, established the system of national defence,
presided over the successful financial administration of a state
struggling out of mutiny into national existence; who had rocked the
Republic in its cradle and ever borne her in his heart; who had made her
name beloved at home and honoured and dreaded abroad; who had been the
first, when the great Taciturn had at last fallen a victim to the
murderous tyrant of Spain, to place the youthful Maurice in his father's
place, and to inspire the whole country with sublime courage to persist
rather than falter in purpose after so deadly a blow; who was as truly
the founder of the Republic as William had been the author of its
independence,--was now denounced as a traitor, a pope, a tyrant, a venal
hucksterer of his country's liberties. His family name, which had long
been an ancient and knightly one, was defiled and its nobility disputed;
his father and mother, sons and daughters, sisters and brothers, accused
of every imaginable and unimaginable crime, of murder, incest, robbery,
bastardy, fraud, forgery, blasphemy. He had received waggon-loads of
Spanish pistoles; he had been paid 120,000 ducats by Spain for
negotiating the Truce; he was in secret treaty with Archduke Albert to
bring 18,000 Spanish mercenaries across the border to defeat the
machinations of Prince Maurice, destroy his life, or drive him from the
country; all these foul and bitter charges and a thousand similar ones
were rained almost daily upon that grey head.

One day the loose sheets of a more than commonly libellous pamphlet were
picked up in the streets of the Hague and placed in the Advocate's hands.
It was the work of the drunken notary Danckaerts already mentioned, then
resident in Amsterdam, and among the papers thus found was a list of
wealthy merchants of that city who had contributed to the expense of its
publication. The opposition of Barneveld to the West India Corporation
could never be forgiven. The Advocate was notified in this production
that he was soon to be summoned to answer for his crimes. The country was
weary of him, he was told, and his life was forfeited.

Stung at last beyond endurance by the persistent malice of his enemies,
he came before the States of Holland for redress. Upon his remonstrance
the author of this vile libel was summoned to answer before the upper
tribunal at the Hague for his crime. The city of Amsterdam covered him
with the shield 'de non evocando,' which had so often in cases of less
consequence proved of no protective value, and the notary was never
punished, but on the contrary after a brief lapse of time rewarded as for
a meritorious action.

Meantime, the States of Holland, by formal act, took the name and honour
of Barneveld under their immediate protection as a treasure belonging
specially to themselves. Heavy penalties were denounced upon the authors
and printers of these libellous attacks, and large rewards offered for
their detection. Nothing came, however, of such measures.

On the 24th April the Advocate addressed a frank, dignified, and
conciliatory letter to the Prince. The rapid progress of calumny against
him had at last alarmed even his steadfast soul, and he thought it best
to make a last appeal to the justice and to the clear intellect of
William the Silent's son.

"Gracious Prince," he said, "I observe to my greatest sorrow an entire
estrangement of your Excellency from me, and I fear lest what was said
six months since by certain clerical persons and afterwards by some
politicians concerning your dissatisfaction with me, which until now I
have not been able to believe, must be true. I declare nevertheless with
a sincere heart to have never willingly given cause for any such feeling;
having always been your very faithful servant and with God's help hoping
as such to die. Ten years ago during the negotiations for the Truce I
clearly observed the beginning of this estrangement, but your Excellency
will be graciously pleased to remember that I declared to you at that
time my upright and sincere intention in these negotiations to promote
the service of the country and the interests of your Excellency, and that
I nevertheless offered at the time not only to resign all my functions
but to leave the country rather than remain in office and in the country
to the dissatisfaction of your Excellency."

He then rapidly reviewed the causes which had produced the alienation of
which he complained and the melancholy divisions caused by the want of
mutual religious toleration in the Provinces; spoke of his efforts to
foster a spirit of conciliation on the dread subject of predestination,
and referred to the letter of the King of Great Britain deprecating
discussion and schism on this subject, and urging that those favourable
to the views of the Remonstrants ought not to be persecuted. Referring to
the intimate relations which Uytenbogaert had so long enjoyed with the
Prince, the Advocate alluded to the difficulty he had in believing that
his Excellency intended to act in opposition to the efforts of the States
of Holland in the cause of mutual toleration, to the manifest detriment
of the country and of many of its best and truest patriots and the
greater number of the magistrates in all the cities.

He reminded the Prince that all attempts to accommodate these fearful
quarrels had been frustrated, and that on his departure the previous year
to Utrecht on account of his health he had again offered to resign all
his offices and to leave Holland altogether rather than find himself in
perpetual opposition to his Excellency.

"I begged you in such case," he said, "to lend your hand to the procuring
for me an honourable discharge from My Lords the States, but your
Excellency declared that you could in no wise approve such a step and
gave me hope that some means of accommodating the dissensions would yet
be proposed."

"I went then to Vianen, being much indisposed; thence I repaired to
Utrecht to consult my old friend Doctor Saulo Saul, in whose hands I
remained six weeks, not being able, as I hoped, to pass my seventieth
birthday on the 24th September last in my birthplace, the city of
Amersfoort. All this time I heard not one single word or proposal of
accommodation. On the contrary it was determined that by a majority vote,
a thing never heard of before, it was intended against the solemn
resolves of the States of Holland, of Utrecht, and of Overyssel to bring
these religious differences before the Assembly of My Lords the
States-General, a proceeding directly in the teeth of the Act of Union
and other treaties, and before a Synod which people called National, and
that meantime every effort was making to discredit all those who stood up
for the laws of these Provinces and to make them odious and despicable in
the eyes of the common people.

"Especially it was I that was thus made the object of hatred and contempt
in their eyes. Hundreds of lies and calumnies, circulated in the form of
libels, seditious pamphlets, and lampoons, compelled me to return from
Utrecht to the Hague. Since that time I have repeatedly offered my
services to your Excellency for the promotion of mutual accommodation and
reconciliation of differences, but without success."

He then alluded to the publication with which the country was ringing,
'The Necessary and Living Discourse of a Spanish Counsellor', and which
was attributed to his former confidential friend, now become his
deadliest foe, ex-Ambassador Francis Aerssens, and warned the Prince that
if he chose, which God forbid, to follow the advice of that seditious
libel, nothing but ruin to the beloved Fatherland and its lovers, to the
princely house of Orange-Nassau and to the Christian religion could be
the issue. "The Spanish government could desire no better counsel," he
said, "than this which these fellows give you; to encourage distrust and
estrangement between your Excellency and the nobles, the cities, and the
magistrates of the land and to propose high and haughty imaginings which
are easy enough to write, but most difficult to practise, and which can
only enure to the advantage of Spain. Therefore most respectfully I beg
your Excellency not to believe these fellows, but to reject their
counsels . . . . Among them are many malignant hypocrites and ambitious
men who are seeking their own profit in these changes of government--many
utterly ragged and beggarly fellows and many infamous traitors coming
from the provinces which have remained under the dominion of the
Spaniard, and who are filled with revenge, envy, and jealousy at the
greater prosperity and bloom of these independent States than they find
at home.

"I fear," he said in conclusion, "that I have troubled your Excellency
too long, but to the fulfilment of my duty and discharge of my conscience
I could not be more brief. It saddens me deeply that in recompense for my
long and manifold services I am attacked by so many calumnious, lying,
seditious, and fraudulent libels, and that these indecencies find their
pretext and their food in the evil disposition of your Excellency towards
me. And although for one-and-thirty years long I have been able to live
down such things with silence, well-doing, and truth, still do I now find
myself compelled in this my advanced old age and infirmity to make some
utterances in defence of myself and those belonging to me, however much
against my heart and inclinations."

He ended by enclosing a copy of the solemn state paper which he was about
to lay before the States of Holland in defence of his honour, and
subscribed himself the lifelong and faithful servant of the Prince.

The Remonstrance to the States contained a summary review of the
political events of his life, which was indeed nothing more nor less than
the history of his country and almost of Europe itself during that
period, broadly and vividly sketched with the hand of a master. It was
published at once and strengthened the affection of his friends and the
wrath of his enemies. It is not necessary to our purpose to reproduce or
even analyse the document, the main facts and opinions contained in it
being already familiar to the reader. The frankness however with which,
in reply to the charges so profusely brought against him of having grown
rich by extortion, treason, and corruption, of having gorged himself with
plunder at home and bribery from the enemy, of being the great pensioner
of Europe and the Marshal d'Ancre of the Netherlands--he alluded to the
exact condition of his private affairs and the growth and sources of his
revenue, giving, as it were, a kind of schedule of his property, has in
it something half humorous, half touching in its simplicity.

He set forth the very slender salaries attached to his high offices of
Advocate of Holland, Keeper of the Seals, and other functions. He
answered the charge that he always had at his disposition 120,000 florins
to bribe foreign agents withal by saying that his whole allowance for
extraordinary expenses and trouble in maintaining his diplomatic and
internal correspondence was exactly 500 florins yearly. He alluded to the
slanders circulated as to his wealth and its sources by those who envied
him for his position and hated him for his services.

"But I beg you to believe, My Lords," he continued, "that my property is
neither so great nor so small as some people represent it to be.

"In the year '75 I married my wife," he said. "I was pleased with her
person. I was likewise pleased with the dowry which was promptly paid
over to me, with firm expectation of increase and betterment . . . . I ac
knowledge that forty-three years ago my wife and myself had got together
so much of real and personal property that we could live honourably upon
it. I had at that time as good pay and practice as any advocate in the
courts which brought me in a good 4000 florins a year; there being but
eight advocates practising at the time, of whom I was certainly not the
one least employed. In the beginning of the year '77 I came into the
service of the city of Rotterdam as 'Pensionary. Upon my salary from that
town I was enabled to support my family, having then but two children.
Now I can clearly prove that between the years 1577 and 1616 inclusive I
have inherited in my own right or that of my wife, from our relatives,
for ourselves and our children by lawful succession, more than 400
Holland morgens of land (about 800 acres), more than 2000 florins yearly
of redeemable rents, a good house in the city of Delft, some houses in
the open country, and several thousand florins in ready money. I have
likewise reclaimed in the course of the past forty years out of the water
and swamps by dyking more than an equal number of acres to those
inherited, and have bought and sold property during the same period to
the value of 800,000 florins; having sometimes bought 100,000 florins'
worth and sold 60,000 of it for 160,000, and so on."

It was evident that the thrifty Advocate during his long life had
understood how to turn over his money, and it was not necessary to
imagine "waggon-loads of Spanish pistoles" and bribes on a gigantic scale
from the hereditary enemy in order to account for a reasonable opulence
on his part.

"I have had nothing to do with trade," he continued, "it having been the
custom of my ancestors to risk no money except where the plough goes. In
the great East India Company however, which with four years of hard work,
public and private, I have helped establish, in order to inflict damage
on the Spaniards and Portuguese, I have adventured somewhat more than
5000 florins . . . . Now even if my condition be reasonably good, I think
no one has reason to envy me. Nevertheless I have said it in your
Lordships' Assembly, and I repeat it solemnly on this occasion, that I
have pondered the state of my affairs during my recent illness and found
that in order to leave my children unencumbered estates I must sell
property to the value of 60,000 or 70,000 florins. This I would rather do
than leave the charge to my children. That I should have got thus
behindhand through bad management, I beg your Highnesses not to believe.
But I have inherited, with the succession of four persons whose only heir
I was and with that of others to whom I was co-heir, many burthens as
well. I have bought property with encumbrances, and I have dyked and
bettered several estates with borrowed money. Now should it please your
Lordships to institute a census and valuation of the property of your
subjects, I for one should be very well pleased. For I know full well
that those who in the estimates of capital in the year 1599 rated
themselves at 50,000 or 60,000 florins now may boast of having twice as
much property as I have. Yet in that year out of patriotism I placed
myself on the list of those liable for the very highest contributions,
being assessed on a property of 200,000 florins."

The Advocate alluded with haughty contempt to the notorious lies
circulated by his libellers in regard to his lineage, as if the vast
services and unquestioned abilities of such a statesman would not have
illustrated the obscurest origin. But as he happened to be of ancient and
honourable descent, he chose to vindicate his position in that regard.

"I was born in the city of Amersfoort," he said, "by the father's side an
Oldenbarneveld; an old and noble race, from generation to generation
steadfast and true; who have been duly summoned for many hundred years to
the assembly of the nobles of their province as they are to this day. By
my mother's side I am sprung from the ancient and knightly family of
Amersfoort, which for three or four hundred years has been known as
foremost among the nobles of Utrecht in all state affairs and as landed
proprietors."

It is only for the sake of opening these domestic and private lights upon
an historical character whose life was so pre-eminently and almost
exclusively a public one that we have drawn some attention to this
stately defence made by the Advocate of his birth, life, and services to
the State. The public portions of the state paper belong exclusively to
history, and have already been sufficiently detailed.

The letter to Prince Maurice was delivered into his hands by Cornelis van
der Myle, son-in-law of Barneveld.

No reply to it was ever sent, but several days afterwards the Stadholder
called from his open window to van der Myle, who happened to be passing
by. He then informed him that he neither admitted the premises nor the
conclusion of the Advocate's letter, saying that many things set down in
it were false. He furthermore told him a story of a certain old man who,
having in his youth invented many things and told them often for truth,
believed them when he came to old age to be actually true and was ever
ready to stake his salvation upon them. Whereupon he shut the window and
left van der Myle to make such application of the parable as he thought
proper, vouchsafing no further answer to Barneveld's communication.

Dudley Carleton related the anecdote to his government with much glee,
but it may be doubted whether this bold way of giving the lie to a
venerable statesman through his son-in-law would have been accounted as
triumphant argumentation anywhere out of a barrack.

As for the Remonstrance to the States of Holland, although most
respectfully received in that assembly except by the five opposition
cities, its immediate effect on the public was to bring down a fresh
"snow storm"--to use the expression of a contemporary--of pamphlets,
libels, caricatures, and broadsheets upon the head of the Advocate. In
every bookseller's and print shop window in all the cities of the
country, the fallen statesman was represented in all possible ludicrous,
contemptible, and hateful shapes, while hags and blind beggars about the
streets screeched filthy and cursing ballads against him, even at his
very doors.

The effect of energetic, uncompromising calumny has rarely been more
strikingly illustrated than in the case of this statesman. Blackened
daily all over by a thousand trowels, the purest and noblest character
must have been defiled, and it is no wonder that the incrustation upon
the Advocate's fame should have lasted for two centuries and a half. It
may perhaps endure for as many more: Not even the vile Marshal d'Ancre,
who had so recently perished, was more the mark of obloquy in a country
which he had dishonoured, flouted, and picked to the bone than was
Barneveld in a commonwealth which he had almost created and had served
faithfully from youth to old age. It was even the fashion to compare him
with Concini in order to heighten the wrath of the public, as if any
parallel between the ignoble, foreign paramour of a stupid and sensual
queen, and the great statesman, patriot, and jurist of whom civilization
will be always proud, could ever enter any but an idiot's brain.

Meantime the Stadholder, who had so successfully handled the Assembly of
Gelderland and Overyssel, now sailed across the Zuiderzee from Kampen to
Amsterdam. On his approach to the stately northern Venice, standing full
of life and commercial bustle upon its vast submerged forest of Norwegian
pines, he was met by a fleet of yachts and escorted through the water
gates of the into the city.

Here an immense assemblage of vessels of every class, from the humble
gondola to the bulky East Indianian and the first-rate ship of war, gaily
bannered with the Orange colours and thronged from deck to topmast by
enthusiastic multitudes, was waiting to receive their beloved stadholder.
A deafening cannonade saluted him on his approach. The Prince was
escorted to the Square or Dam, where on a high scaffolding covered with
blue velvet in front of the stately mediaeval town-hall the burgomasters
and board of magistrates in their robes of office were waiting to receive
him. The strains of that most inspiriting and suggestive of national
melodies, the 'Wilhelmus van Nassouwen,' rang through the air, and when
they were silent, the chief magistrate poured forth a very eloquent and
tedious oration, and concluded by presenting him with a large orange in
solid gold; Maurice having succeeded to the principality a few months
before on the death of his half-brother Philip William.

The "Blooming in Love," as one of the Chambers of "Rhetoric" in which
the hard-handed but half-artistic mechanics and shopkeepers of the
Netherlands loved to disport themselves was called, then exhibited upon
an opposite scaffold a magnificent representation of Jupiter astride upon
an eagle and banding down to the Stadholder as if from the clouds that
same principality. Nothing could be neater or more mythological.

The Prince and his escort, sitting in the windows of the town-hall, the
square beneath being covered with 3000 or 4000 burgher militia in full
uniform, with orange plumes in their hats and orange scarves on their
breasts, saw still other sights. A gorgeous procession set forth by the
"Netherlandish Academy," another chamber of rhetoric, and filled with
those emblematic impersonations so dear to the hearts of Netherlanders,
had been sweeping through all the canals and along the splendid quays of
the city. The Maid of Holland, twenty feet high, led the van, followed by
the counterfeit presentment of each of her six sisters. An orange tree
full of flowers and fruit was conspicuous in one barge, while in another,
strangely and lugubriously enough, lay the murdered William the Silent in
the arms of his wife and surrounded by his weeping sons and daughters all
attired in white satin.

In the evening the Netherland Academy, to improve the general hilarity,
and as if believing exhibitions of murder the most appropriate means of
welcoming the Prince, invited him to a scenic representation of the
assassination of Count Florence V. of Holland by Gerrit van Velsen and
other nobles. There seemed no especial reason for the selection, unless
perhaps the local one; one of the perpetrators of this crime against an
ancient predecessor of William the Silent in the sovereignty of Holland
having been a former lord proprietor of Amsterdam and the adjacent
territories, Gysbrecht van Amatel.

Maurice returned to the Hague. Five of the seven provinces were entirely
his own. Utrecht too was already wavering, while there could be no doubt
of the warm allegiance to himself of the important commercial metropolis
of Holland, the only province in which Barneveld's influence was still
paramount.

Owing to the watchfulness and distrust of Barneveld, which had never
faltered, Spain had not secured the entire control of the disputed
duchies, but she had at least secured the head of a venerated saint. "The
bargain is completed for the head of the glorious Saint Lawrence, which
you know I so much desire," wrote Philip triumphantly to the Archduke
Albert. He had, however, not got it for nothing.

The Abbot of Glamart in Julich, then in possession of that treasure, had
stipulated before delivering it that if at any time the heretics or other
enemies should destroy the monastery his Majesty would establish them in
Spanish Flanders and give them the same revenues as they now enjoyed in
Julich. Count Herman van den Berg was to give a guarantee to that effect.

Meantime the long controversy in the duchies having tacitly come to a
standstill upon the basis of 'uti possidetis,' the Spanish government had
leisure in the midst of their preparation for the general crusade upon
European heresy to observe and enjoy the internal religious dissensions
in their revolted provinces. Although they had concluded the convention
with them as with countries over which they had no pretensions, they had
never at heart allowed more virtue to the conjunction "as," which really
contained the essence of the treaty, than grammatically belonged to it.
Spain still chose to regard the independence of the Seven Provinces as a
pleasant fiction to be dispelled when, the truce having expired by its
own limitation, she should resume, as she fully meant to do, her
sovereignty over all the seventeen Netherlands, the United as well as the
obedient. Thus at any rate the question of state rights or central
sovereignty would be settled by a very summary process. The Spanish
ambassador was wroth, as may well be supposed, when the agent of the
rebel provinces received in London the rank, title, and recognition of
ambassador. Gondemar at least refused to acknowledge Noel de Caron as his
diplomatic equal or even as his colleague, and was vehement in his
protestations on the subject. But James, much as he dreaded the Spanish
envoy and fawned upon his master, was not besotted enough to comply with
these demands at the expense of his most powerful ally, the Republic of
the Netherlands. The Spanish king however declared his ambassador's
proceedings to be in exact accordance with his instructions. He was
sorry, he said, if the affair had caused discontent to the King of Great
Britain; he intended in all respects to maintain the Treaty of Truce of
which his Majesty had been one of the guarantors, but as that treaty had
but a few more years to run, after which he should be reinstated in his
former right of sovereignty over all the Netherlands, he entirely
justified the conduct of Count Gondemar.

It may well be conceived that, as the years passed by, as the period of
the Truce grew nearer and the religious disputes became every day more
envenomed, the government at Madrid should look on the tumultuous scene
with saturnine satisfaction. There was little doubt now, they thought,
that the Provinces, sick of their rebellion and that fancied independence
which had led them into a whirlpool of political and religious misery,
and convinced of their incompetence to govern themselves, would be only
too happy to seek the forgiving arms of their lawful sovereign. Above all
they must have learned that their great heresy had carried its
chastisement with it, that within something they called a Reformed Church
other heresies had been developed which demanded condign punishment at
the hands of that new Church, and that there could be neither rest for
them in this world nor salvation in the next except by returning to the
bosom of their ancient mother.

Now was the time, so it was thought, to throw forward a strong force of
Jesuits as skirmishers into the Provinces by whom the way would be opened
for the reconquest of the whole territory.

"By the advices coming to us continually from thence," wrote the King of
Spain to Archduke Albert, "we understand that the disquiets and
differences continue in Holland on matters relating to their sects, and
that from this has resulted the conversion of many to the Catholic
religion. So it has been taken into consideration whether it would not be
expedient that some fathers of the company of Jesuits be sent secretly
from Rome to Holland, who should negotiate concerning the conversion of
that people. Before taking a resolution, I have thought best to give an
account of this matter to your Highness. I should be glad if you would
inform me what priests are going to Holland, what fruits they yield, and
what can be done for the continuance of their labours. Please to advise
me very particularly together with any suggestions that may occur to you
in this matter."

The Archduke, who was nearer the scene, was not so sure that the old
religion was making such progress as his royal nephew or those who spoke
in his name believed. At any rate, if it were not rapidly gaining ground,
it would be neither for want of discord among the Protestants nor for
lack of Jesuits to profit by it.

"I do not understand," said he in reply, "nor is it generally considered
certain that from the differences and disturbances that the Hollanders
are having among themselves there has resulted the conversion of any of
them to our blessed Catholic faith, because their disputes are of certain
points concerning which there are different opinions within their sect.
There has always been a goodly number of priests here, the greater part
of whom belong to the Company. They are very diligent and fervent, and
the Catholics derive much comfort from them. To send more of them would
do more harm than good. It might be found out, and then they would
perhaps be driven out of Holland or even chastised. So it seems better to
leave things as they are for the present."

The Spanish government was not discouraged however, but was pricking up
its ears anew at strange communications it was receiving from the very
bosom of the council of state in the Netherlands. This body, as will be
remembered, had been much opposed to Barneveld and to the policy pursued
under his leadership by the States of Holland. Some of its members were
secretly Catholic and still more secretly disposed to effect a revolution
in the government, the object of which should be to fuse the United
Provinces with the obedient Netherlands in a single independent monarchy
to be placed under the sceptre of the son of Philip III.

A paper containing the outlines of this scheme had been sent to Spain,
and the King at once forwarded it in cipher to the Archduke at Brussels
for his opinion and co-operation.

"You will see," he said, "the plan which a certain person zealous for the
public good has proposed for reducing the Netherlanders to my obedience.
. . . . You will please advise with Count Frederic van den Berg and let
me know with much particularity and profound secrecy what is thought,
what is occurring, and the form in which this matter ought to be
negotiated, and the proper way to make it march."

Unquestionably the paper was of grave importance. It informed the King of
Spain that some principal personages in the United Netherlands, members
of the council of state, were of opinion that if his Majesty or Archduke
Albert should propose peace, it could be accomplished at that moment more
easily than ever before. They had arrived at the conviction that no
assistance was to be obtained from the King of France, who was too much
weakened by tumults and sedition at home, while nothing good could be
expected from the King of England. The greater part of the Province of
Gelderland, they said, with all Friesland, Utrecht, Groningen, and
Overyssel were inclined to a permanent peace. Being all of them frontier
provinces, they were constantly exposed to the brunt of hostilities.
Besides this, the war expenses alone would now be more than 3,000,000
florins a year. Thus the people were kept perpetually harassed, and
although evil-intentioned persons approved these burthens under the
pretence that such heavy taxation served to free them from the tyranny of
Spain, those of sense and quality reproved them and knew the contrary to
be true. "Many here know," continued these traitors in the heart of the
state council, "how good it would be for the people of the Netherlands to
have a prince, and those having this desire being on the frontier are
determined to accept the son of your Majesty for their ruler." The
conditions of the proposed arrangement were to be that the Prince with
his successors who were thus to possess all the Netherlands were to be
independent sovereigns not subject in any way to the crown of Spain, and
that the great governments and dignities of the country were to remain in
the hands then holding them.

This last condition was obviously inserted in the plan for the special
benefit of Prince Maurice and Count Lewis, although there is not an atom
of evidence that they had ever heard of the intrigue or doubt that, if
they had, they would have signally chastised its guilty authors.

It was further stated that the Catholics having in each town a church and
free exercise of their religion would soon be in a great majority. Thus
the political and religious counter-revolution would be triumphantly
accomplished.

It was proposed that the management of the business should be entrusted
to some gentleman of the country possessing property there who "under
pretext of the public good should make people comprehend what a great
thing it would be if they could obtain this favour from the Spanish King,
thus extricating themselves from so many calamities and miseries, and
obtaining free traffic and a prince of their own." It would be necessary
for the King and Archduke to write many letters and promise great rewards
to persons who might otherwise embarrass the good work.

The plot was an ingenious one. There seemed in the opinion of these
conspirators in the state council but one great obstacle to its success.
It should be kept absolutely concealed from the States of Holland. The
great stipendiary of Spain, John of Barneveld, whose coffers were filled
with Spanish pistoles, whose name and surname might be read by all men in
the account-books at Brussels heading the register of mighty
bribe-takers, the man who was howled at in a thousand lampoons as a
traitor ever ready to sell his country, whom even Prince Maurice "partly
believed" to be the pensionary of Philip, must not hear a whisper of this
scheme to restore the Republic to Spanish control and place it under the
sceptre of a Spanish prince.

The States of Holland at that moment and so long as he was a member of
the body were Barneveld and Barneveld only; thinking his thoughts,
speaking with his tongue, writing with his pen. Of this neither friend
nor foe ever expressed a doubt. Indeed it was one of the staple
accusations against him.

Yet this paper in which the Spanish king in confidential cipher and
profound secrecy communicated to Archduke Albert his hopes and his
schemes for recovering the revolted provinces as a kingdom for his son
contained these words of caution.

"The States of Holland and Zealand will be opposed to the plan," it said.
"If the treaty come to the knowledge of the States and Council of Holland
before it has been acted upon by the five frontier provinces the whole
plan will be demolished."

Such was the opinion entertained by Philip himself of the man who was
supposed to be his stipendiary. I am not aware that this paper has ever
been alluded to in any document or treatise private or public from the
day of its date to this hour. It certainly has never been published, but
it lies deciphered in the Archives of the Kingdom at Brussels, and is
alone sufficient to put to shame the slanderers of the Advocate's
loyalty.

Yet let it be remembered that in this very summer exactly at the moment
when these intrigues were going on between the King of Spain and the
class of men most opposed to Barneveld, the accusations against his
fidelity were loudest and rifest.

Before the Stadholder had so suddenly slipped down to Brielle in order to
secure that important stronghold for the Contra-Remonstrant party,
reports had been carefully strewn among the people that the Advocate was
about to deliver that place and other fortresses to Spain.

Brielle, Flushing, Rammekens, the very cautionary towns and keys to the
country which he had so recently and in such masterly manner delivered
from the grasp of the hereditary ally he was now about to surrender to
the ancient enemy.

The Spaniards were already on the sea, it was said. Had it not been for
his Excellency's watchfulness and promptitude, they would already under
guidance of Barneveld and his crew have mastered the city of Brielle.
Flushing too through Barneveld's advice and connivance was open at a
particular point, in order that the Spaniards, who had their eye upon it,
might conveniently enter and take possession of the place. The air was
full of wild rumours to this effect, and already the humbler classes who
sided with the Stadholder saw in him the saviour of the country from the
treason of the Advocate and the renewed tyranny of Spain.

The Prince made no such pretence, but simply took possession of the
fortress in order to be beforehand with the Waartgelders. The
Contra-Remonstrants in Brielle had desired that "men should see who had
the hardest fists," and it would certainly have been difficult to find
harder ones than those of the hero of Nieuwpoort.

Besides the Jesuits coming in so skilfully to triumph over the warring
sects of Calvinists, there were other engineers on whom the Spanish
government relied to effect the reconquest of the Netherlands. Especially
it was an object to wreak vengeance on Holland, that head and front of
the revolt, both for its persistence in rebellion and for the immense
prosperity and progress by which that rebellion had been rewarded.
Holland had grown fat and strong, while the obedient Netherlands were
withered to the marrow of their bones. But there was a practical person
then resident in Spain to whom the Netherlands were well known, to whom
indeed everything was well known, who had laid before the King a
magnificent scheme for destroying the commerce and with it the very
existence of Holland to the great advantage of the Spanish finances and
of the Spanish Netherlands. Philip of course laid it before the Archduke
as usual, that he might ponder it well and afterwards, if approved,
direct its execution.

The practical person set forth in an elaborate memoir that the Hollanders
were making rapid progress in commerce, arts, and manufactures, while the
obedient provinces were sinking as swiftly into decay. The Spanish
Netherlands were almost entirely shut off from the sea, the rivers
Scheldt and Meuse being hardly navigable for them on account of the
control of those waters by Holland. The Dutch were attracting to their
dominions all artisans, navigators, and traders. Despising all other
nations and giving them the law, they had ruined the obedient provinces.
Ostend, Nieuwpoort, Dunkerk were wasting away, and ought to be restored.

"I have profoundly studied forty years long the subjects of commerce and
navigation," said the practical person, "and I have succeeded in
penetrating the secrets and acquiring, as it were, universal
knowledge--let me not be suspected of boasting--of the whole discovered
world and of the ocean. I have been assisted by study of the best works
of geography and history, by my own labours, and by those of my late
father, a man of illustrious genius and heroical conceptions and very
zealous in the Catholic faith."

The modest and practical son of an illustrious but anonymous father, then
coming to the point, said it would be the easiest thing in the world to
direct the course of the Scheldt into an entirely new channel through
Spanish Flanders to the sea. Thus the Dutch ports and forts which had
been constructed with such magnificence and at such vast expense would be
left high and dry; the Spaniards would build new ones in Flanders, and
thus control the whole navigation and deprive the Hollanders of that
empire of the sea which they now so proudly arrogated. This scheme was
much simpler to carry out than the vulgar might suppose, and, when
accomplished, it would destroy the commerce, navigation, and fisheries of
the Hollanders, throwing it all into the hands of the Archdukes. This
would cause such ruin, poverty, and tumults everywhere that all would be
changed. The Republic of the United States would annihilate itself and
fall to pieces; the religious dissensions, the war of one sect with
another, and the jealousy of the House of Nassau, suspected of plans
hostile to popular liberties, finishing the work of destruction. "Then
the Republic," said the man of universal science, warming at sight of the
picture he was painting, "laden with debt and steeped in poverty, will
fall to the ground of its own weight, and thus debilitated will crawl
humbly to place itself in the paternal hands of the illustrious house of
Austria."

It would be better, he thought, to set about the work, before the
expiration of the Truce. At any rate, the preparation for it, or the mere
threat of it, would ensure a renewal of that treaty on juster terms. It
was most important too to begin at once the construction of a port on the
coast of Flanders, looking to the north.

There was a position, he said, without naming it, in which whole navies
could ride in safety, secure from all tempests, beyond the reach of the
Hollanders, open at all times to traffic to and from England, France,
Spain, Norway, Sweden, Russia--a perfectly free commerce, beyond the
reach of any rights or duties claimed or levied by the insolent republic.
In this port would assemble all the navigators of the country, and it
would become in time of war a terror to the Hollanders, English, and all
northern peoples. In order to attract, protect, and preserve these
navigators and this commerce, many great public edifices must be built,
together with splendid streets of houses and impregnable fortifications.
It should be a walled and stately city, and its name should be
Philipopolis. If these simple projects, so easy of execution, pleased his
Majesty, the practical person was ready to explain them in all their
details.

His Majesty was enchanted with the glowing picture, but before quite
deciding on carrying the scheme into execution thought it best to consult
the Archduke.

The reply of Albert has not been preserved. It was probably not
enthusiastic, and the man who without boasting had declared himself to
know everything was never commissioned to convert his schemes into
realities. That magnificent walled city, Philipopolis, with its gorgeous
streets and bristling fortresses, remained unbuilt, the Scheldt has
placidly flowed through its old channel to the sea from that day to this,
and the Republic remained in possession of the unexampled foreign trade
with which rebellion had enriched it.

These various intrigues and projects show plainly enough however the
encouragement given to the enemies of the United Provinces and of
Protestantism everywhere by these disastrous internal dissensions. But
yesterday and the Republic led by Barneveld in council and Maurice of
Nassau in the field stood at the head of the great army of resistance to
the general crusade organized by Spain and Rome against all unbelievers.
And now that the war was absolutely beginning in Bohemia, the Republic
was falling upon its own sword instead of smiting with it the universal
foe.

It was not the King of Spain alone that cast longing eyes on the fair
territory of that commonwealth which the unparalleled tyranny of his
father had driven to renounce his sceptre. Both in the Netherlands and
France, among the extreme orthodox party, there were secret schemes, to
which Maurice was not privy, to raise Maurice to the sovereignty of the
Provinces. Other conspirators with a wider scope and more treasonable
design were disposed to surrender their country to the dominion of
France, stipulating of course large rewards and offices for themselves
and the vice-royalty of what should then be the French Netherlands to
Maurice.

The schemes were wild enough perhaps, but their very existence, which is
undoubted, is another proof, if more proof were wanted, of the lamentable
tendency, in times of civil and religious dissension, of political
passion to burn out the very first principles of patriotism.

It is also important, on account of the direct influence exerted by these
intrigues upon subsequent events of the gravest character, to throw a
beam of light on matters which were thought to have been shrouded for
ever in impenetrable darkness.

Langerac, the States' Ambassador in Paris, was the very reverse of his
predecessor, the wily, unscrupulous, and accomplished Francis Aerssens.
The envoys of the Republic were rarely dull, but Langerac was a
simpleton. They were renowned for political experience, skill,
familiarity with foreign languages, knowledge of literature, history, and
public law; but he was ignorant, spoke French very imperfectly, at a
court where not a human being could address him in his own tongue, had
never been employed in diplomacy or in high office of any kind, and could
carry but small personal weight at a post where of all others the
representative of the great republic should have commanded deference both
for his own qualities and for the majesty of his government. At a period
when France was left without a master or a guide the Dutch ambassador,
under a becoming show of profound respect, might really have governed the
country so far as regarded at least the all important relations which
bound the two nations together. But Langerac was a mere picker-up of
trifles, a newsmonger who wrote a despatch to-day with information which
a despatch was written on the morrow to contradict, while in itself
conveying additional intelligence absolutely certain to be falsified soon
afterwards. The Emperor of Germany had gone mad; Prince Maurice had been
assassinated in the Hague, a fact which his correspondents, the
States-General, might be supposed already to know, if it were one; there
had been a revolution in the royal bed-chamber; the Spanish cook of the
young queen had arrived from Madrid; the Duke of Nevers was behaving very
oddly at Vienna; such communications, and others equally startling, were
the staple of his correspondence.

Still he was honest enough, very mild, perfectly docile to Barneveld,
dependent upon his guidance, and fervently attached to that statesman so
long as his wheel was going up the hill. Moreover, his industry in
obtaining information and his passion for imparting it made it probable
that nothing very momentous would be neglected should it be laid before
him, but that his masters, and especially the Advocate, would be enabled
to judge for themselves as to the attention due to it.

"With this you will be apprised of some very high and weighty matters,"
he wrote privately and in cipher to Barneveld, "which you will make use
of according to your great wisdom and forethought for the country's
service."

He requested that the matter might also be confided to M. van der Myle,
that he might assist his father-in-law, so overburdened with business, in
the task of deciphering the communication. He then stated that he had
been "very earnestly informed three days before by M. du Agean"--member
of the privy council of France--"that it had recently come to the King's
ears, and his Majesty knew it to be authentic, that there was a secret
and very dangerous conspiracy in Holland of persons belonging to the
Reformed religion in which others were also mixed. This party held very
earnest and very secret correspondence with the factious portion of the
Contra-Remonstrants both in the Netherlands and France, seeking under
pretext of the religious dissensions or by means of them to confer the
sovereignty upon Prince Maurice by general consent of the
Contra-Remonstrants. Their object was also to strengthen and augment the
force of the same religious party in France, to which end the Duc de
Bouillon and M. de Chatillon were very earnestly co-operating. Langerac
had already been informed by Chatillon that the Contra-Remonstrants had
determined to make a public declaration against the Remonstrants, and
come to an open separation from them.

"Others propose however," said the Ambassador, "that the King himself
should use the occasion to seize the sovereignty of the United Provinces
for himself and to appoint Prince Maurice viceroy, giving him in marriage
Madame Henriette of France." The object of this movement would be to
frustrate the plots of the Contra-Remonstrants, who were known to be
passionately hostile to the King and to France, and who had been
constantly traversing the negotiations of M. du Maurier. There was a
disposition to send a special and solemn embassy to the States, but it
was feared that the British king would at once do the same, to the
immense disadvantage of the Remonstrants. "M. de Barneveld," said the
envoy, "is deeply sympathized with here and commiserated. The Chancellor
has repeatedly requested me to present to you his very sincere and very
hearty respects, exhorting you to continue in your manly steadfastness
and courage." He also assured the Advocate that the French ambassador, M.
du Maurier, enjoyed the entire confidence of his government, and of the
principal members of the council, and that the King, although
contemplating, as we have seen, the seizure of the sovereignty of the
country, was most amicably disposed towards it, and so soon as the peace
of Savoy was settled "had something very good for it in his mind."
Whether the something very good was this very design to deprive it of
independence, the Ambassador did not state. He however recommended the
use of sundry small presents at the French court--especially to Madame de
Luynes, wife of the new favourite of Lewis since the death of Concini, in
which he had aided, now rising rapidly to consideration, and to Madame du
Agean--and asked to be supplied with funds accordingly. By these means he
thought it probable that at least the payment to the States of the long
arrears of the French subsidy might be secured.

Three weeks later, returning to the subject, the Ambassador reported
another conversation with M. du Agean. That politician assured him, "with
high protestations," as a perfectly certain fact that a Frenchman duly
qualified had arrived in Paris from Holland who had been in communication
not only with him but with several of the most confidential members of
the privy council of France. This duly qualified gentleman had been
secretly commissioned to say that in opinion of the conspirators already
indicated the occasion was exactly offered by these religious dissensions
in the Netherlands for bringing the whole country under the obedience of
the King. This would be done with perfect ease if he would
only be willing to favour a little the one party, that of the
Contra-Remonstrants, and promise his Excellency "perfect and perpetual
authority in the government with other compensations."

The proposition, said du Agean, had been rejected by the privy
councillors with a declaration that they would not mix themselves up with
any factions, nor assist any party, but that they would gladly work with
the government for the accommodation of these difficulties and
differences in the Provinces.

"I send you all this nakedly," concluded Langerac, "exactly as it has
been communicated to me, having always answered according to my duty and
with a view by negotiating with these persons to discover the intentions
as well of one side as the other."

The Advocate was not profoundly impressed by these revelations. He was
too experienced a statesman to doubt that in times when civil and
religious passion was running high there was never lack of fishers in
troubled waters, and that if a body of conspirators could secure a
handsome compensation by selling their country to a foreign prince, they
would always be ready to do it.

But although believed by Maurice to be himself a stipendiary of Spain, he
was above suspecting the Prince of any share in the low and stupid
intrigue which du Agean had imagined or disclosed. That the Stadholder
was ambitious of greater power, he hardly doubted, but that he was
seeking to acquire it by such corrupt and circuitous means, he did not
dream. He confidentially communicated the plot as in duty bound to some
members of the States, and had the Prince been accused in any
conversation or statement of being privy to the scheme, he would have
thought himself bound to mention it to him. The story came to the ears of
Maurice however, and helped to feed his wrath against the Advocate, as if
he were responsible for a plot, if plot it were, which had been concocted
by his own deadliest enemies. The Prince wrote a letter alluding to this
communication of Langerac and giving much alarm to that functionary. He
thought his despatches must have been intercepted and proposed in future
to write always by special courier. Barneveld thought that unnecessary
except when there were more important matters than those appeared to him
to be and requiring more haste.

"The letter of his Excellency," said he to the Ambassador, "is caused in
my opinion by the fact that some of the deputies to this assembly to whom
I secretly imparted your letter or its substance did not rightly
comprehend or report it. You did not say that his Excellency had any such
design or project, but that it had been said that the Contra-Remonstrants
were entertaining such a scheme. I would have shown the letter to him
myself, but I thought it not fair, for good reasons, to make M. du Agean
known as the informant. I do not think it amiss for you to write yourself
to his Excellency and tell him what is said, but whether it would be
proper to give up the name of your author, I think doubtful. At all
events one must consult about it. We live in a strange world, and one
knows not whom to trust."

He instructed the Ambassador to enquire into the foundation of these
statements of du Agean and send advices by every occasion of this affair
and others of equal interest. He was however much more occupied with
securing the goodwill of the French government, which he no more
suspected of tampering in these schemes against the independence of the
Republic than he did Maurice himself. He relied and he had reason to rely
on their steady good offices in the cause of moderation and
reconciliation. "We are not yet brought to the necessary and much desired
unity," he said, "but we do not despair, hoping that his Majesty's
efforts through M. du Maurier, both privately and publicly, will do much
good. Be assured that they are very agreeable to all rightly disposed
people . . . . My trust is that God the Lord will give us a happy issue
and save this country from perdition." He approved of the presents to the
two ladies as suggested by Langerac if by so doing the payment of the
arrearages could be furthered. He was still hopeful and confident in the
justice of his cause and the purity of his conscience. "Aerssens is
crowing like a cock," he said, "but the truth will surely prevail."




CHAPTER XVII.

   A Deputation from Utrecht to Maurice--The Fair at Utrecht--Maurice
   and the States' Deputies at Utrecht--Ogle refuses to act in
   Opposition to the States--The Stadholder disbands the Waartgelders--
   The Prince appoints forty Magistrates--The States formally disband
   the Waartgelders.

The eventful midsummer had arrived. The lime-tree blossoms were fragrant
in the leafy bowers overshadowing the beautiful little rural capital of
the Commonwealth. The anniversary of the Nieuwpoort victory, July 2, had
come and gone, and the Stadholder was known to be resolved that his
political campaign this year should be as victorious as that memorable
military one of eighteen years before.

Before the dog-days should begin to rage, the fierce heats of theological
and political passion were to wax daily more and more intense.

The party at Utrecht in favour of a compromise and in awe of the
Stadholder sent a deputation to the Hague with the express but secret
purpose of conferring with Maurice. They were eight in number, three of
whom, including Gillis van Ledenberg, lodged at the house of Daniel
Tressel, first clerk of the States-General.

The leaders of the Barneveld party, aware of the purport of this mission
and determined to frustrate it, contrived a meeting between the Utrecht
commissioners and Grotius, Hoogerbeets, de Haan, and de Lange at
Tressel's house.

Grotius was spokesman. Maurice had accused the States of Holland of
mutiny and rebellion, and the distinguished Pensionary of Rotterdam now
retorted the charges of mutiny, disobedience, and mischief-making upon
those who, under the mask of religion, were attempting to violate the
sovereignty of the States, the privileges and laws of the province, the
authority of the magistrates, and to subject them to the power of
others. To prevent such a catastrophe many cities had enlisted
Waartgelders. By this means they had held such mutineers to their duty,
as had been seen at Leyden, Haarlem, and other places. The States of
Utrecht had secured themselves in the same way. But the mischiefmakers
and the ill-disposed had been seeking everywhere to counteract these
wholesome measures and to bring about a general disbanding of these
troops. This it was necessary to resist with spirit. It was the very
foundation of the provinces' sovereignty, to maintain which the public
means must be employed. It was in vain to drive the foe out of the
country if one could not remain in safety within one's own doors. They
had heard with sorrow that Utrecht was thinking of cashiering its troops,
and the speaker proceeded therefore to urge with all the eloquence he was
master of the necessity of pausing before taking so fatal a step.

The deputies of Utrecht answered by pleading the great pecuniary burthen
which the maintenance of the mercenaries imposed upon that province, and
complained that there was no one to come to their assistance, exposed as
they were to a sudden and overwhelming attack from many quarters. The
States-General had not only written but sent commissioners to Utrecht
insisting on the disbandment. They could plainly see the displeasure of
the Prince. It was a very different affair in Holland, but the States of
Utrecht found it necessary of two evils to choose the least.

They had therefore instructed their commissioners to request the Prince
to remove the foreign garrison from their capital and to send the old
companies of native militia in their place, to be in the pay of the
episcopate. In this case the States would agree to disband the new
levies.

Grotius in reply again warned the commissioners against communicating
with Maurice according to their instructions, intimated that the native
militia on which they were proposing to rely might have been debauched,
and he held out hopes that perhaps the States of Utrecht might derive
some relief from certain financial measures now contemplated in Holland.

The Utrechters resolved to wait at least several days before opening the
subject of their mission to the Prince. Meantime Ledenberg made a rough
draft of a report of what had occurred between them and Grotius and his
colleagues which it was resolved to lay secretly before the States of
Utrecht. The Hollanders hoped that they had at last persuaded the
commissioners to maintain the Waartgelders.

The States of Holland now passed a solemn resolution to the effect that
these new levies had been made to secure municipal order and maintain the
laws from subversion by civil tumults. If this object could be obtained
by other means, if the Stadholder were willing to remove garrisons of
foreign mercenaries on whom there could be no reliance, and supply their
place with native troops both in Holland and Utrecht, an arrangement
could be made for disbanding the Waartgelders.

Barneveld, at the head of thirty deputies from the nobles and cities,
waited upon Maurice and verbally communicated to him this resolution. He
made a cold and unsatisfactory reply, although it seems to have been
understood that by according twenty companies of native troops he might
have contented both Holland and Utrecht.

Ledenberg and his colleagues took their departure from the Hague without
communicating their message to Maurice. Soon afterwards the
States-General appointed a commission to Utrecht with the Stadholder at
the head of it.

The States of Holland appointed another with Grotius as its chairman.

On the 25th July Grotius and Pensionary Hoogerbeets with two colleagues
arrived in Utrecht.

Gillis van Ledenberg was there to receive them. A tall, handsome,
bald-headed, well-featured, mild, gentlemanlike man was this secretary of
the Utrecht assembly, and certainly not aware, while passing to and fro
on such half diplomatic missions between two sovereign assemblies, that
he was committing high-treason. He might well imagine however, should
Maurice discover that it was he who had prevented the commissioners from
conferring with him as instructed, that it would go hard with him.

Ledenberg forthwith introduced Grotius and his committee to the Assembly
at Utrecht.

While these great personages were thus holding solemn and secret council,
another and still greater personage came upon the scene.

The Stadholder with the deputation from the States-General arrived at
Utrecht.

Evidently the threads of this political drama were converging to a
catastrophe, and it might prove a tragical one.

Meantime all looked merry enough in the old episcopal city. There were
few towns in Lower or in Upper Germany more elegant and imposing than
Utrecht. Situate on the slender and feeble channel of the ancient Rhine
as it falters languidly to the sea, surrounded by trim gardens and
orchards, and embowered in groves of beeches and limetrees, with busy
canals fringed with poplars, lined with solid quays, and crossed by
innumerable bridges; with the stately brick tower of St. Martin's rising
to a daring height above one of the most magnificent Gothic cathedrals in
the Netherlands; this seat of the Anglo-Saxon Willebrord, who eight
hundred years before had preached Christianity to the Frisians, and had
founded that long line of hard-fighting, indomitable bishops, obstinately
contesting for centuries the possession of the swamps and pastures about
them with counts, kings, and emperors, was still worthy of its history
and its position.

It was here too that sixty-one years before the famous Articles of Union
were signed. By that fundamental treaty of the Confederacy, the Provinces
agreed to remain eternally united as if they were but one province, to
make no war nor peace save by unanimous consent, while on lesser matters
a majority should rule; to admit both Catholics and Protestants to the
Union provided they obeyed its Articles and conducted themselves as good
patriots, and expressly declared that no province or city should
interfere with another in the matter of divine worship.

From this memorable compact, so enduring a landmark in the history of
human freedom, and distinguished by such breadth of view for the times
both in religion and politics, the city had gained the title of cradle of
liberty: 'Cunabula libertatis'.

Was it still to deserve the name? At that particular moment the mass of
the population was comparatively indifferent to the terrible questions
pending. It was the kermis or annual fair, and all the world was keeping
holiday in Utrecht. The pedlars and itinerant merchants from all the
cities and provinces had brought their wares jewellery and crockery,
ribbons and laces, ploughs and harrows, carriages and horses, cows and
sheep, cheeses and butter firkins, doublets and petticoats, guns and
pistols, everything that could serve the city and country-side for months
to come--and displayed them in temporary booths or on the ground, in
every street and along every canal. The town was one vast bazaar. The
peasant-women from the country, with their gold and silver tiaras and the
year's rent of a comfortable farm in their earrings and necklaces, and
the sturdy Frisian peasants, many of whom had borne their matchlocks in
the great wars which had lasted through their own and their fathers'
lifetime, trudged through the city, enjoying the blessings of peace.
Bands of music and merry-go-rounds in all the open places and squares;
open-air bakeries of pancakes and waffles; theatrical exhibitions,
raree-shows, jugglers, and mountebanks at every corner--all these
phenomena which had been at every kermis for centuries, and were to
repeat themselves for centuries afterwards, now enlivened the atmosphere
of the grey, episcopal city. Pasted against the walls of public edifices
were the most recent placards and counter-placards of the States-General
and the States of Utrecht on the great subject of religious schisms and
popular tumults. In the shop-windows and on the bookstalls of
Contra-Remonstrant tradesmen, now becoming more and more defiant as the
last allies of Holland, the States of Utrecht, were gradually losing
courage, were seen the freshest ballads and caricatures against the
Advocate. Here an engraving represented him seated at table with Grotius,
Hoogerbeets, and others, discussing the National Synod, while a flap of
the picture being lifted put the head of the Duke of Alva on the legs of
Barneveld, his companions being transformed in similar manner into
Spanish priests and cardinals assembled at the terrible Council of
Blood-with rows of Protestant martyrs burning and hanging in the
distance. Another print showed Prince Maurice and the States-General
shaking the leading statesmen of the Commonwealth in a mighty sieve
through which came tumbling head foremost to perdition the hated Advocate
and his abettors. Another showed the Arminians as a row of crest-fallen
cocks rained upon by the wrath of the Stadholder--Arminians by a
detestable pun being converted into "Arme haenen" or "Poor cocks." One
represented the Pope and King of Spain blowing thousands of ducats out of
a golden bellows into the lap of the Advocate, who was holding up his
official robes to receive them, or whole carriage-loads of Arminians
starting off bag and baggage on the road to Rome, with Lucifer in the
perspective waiting to give them a warm welcome in his own dominions; and
so on, and so on. Moving through the throng, with iron calque on their
heads and halberd in hand, were groups of Waartgelders scowling fiercely
at many popular demonstrations such as they had been enlisted to
suppress, but while off duty concealing outward symptoms of wrath which
in many instances perhaps would have been far from genuine.

For although these mercenaries knew that the States of Holland, who were
responsible for the pay of the regular troops then in Utrecht, authorized
them to obey no orders save from the local authorities, yet it was
becoming a grave question for the Waartgelders whether their own wages
were perfectly safe, a circumstance which made them susceptible to the
atmosphere of Contra-Remonstrantism which was steadily enwrapping the
whole country. A still graver question was whether such resistance as
they could offer to the renowned Stadholder, whose name was magic to
every soldier's heart not only in his own land but throughout
Christendom, would not be like parrying a lance's thrust with a bulrush.
In truth the senior captain of the Waartgelders, Harteveld by name, had
privately informed the leaders of the Barneveld party in Utrecht that he
would not draw his sword against Prince Maurice and the States-General.
"Who asks you to do so?" said some of the deputies, while Ledenberg on
the other hand flatly accused him of cowardice. For this affront the
Captain had vowed revenge.

And in the midst of this scene of jollity and confusion, that midsummer
night, entered the stern Stadholder with his fellow commissioners; the
feeble plans for shutting the gates upon him not having been carried into
effect.

"You hardly expected such a guest at your fair," said he to the
magistrates, with a grim smile on his face as who should say, "And what
do you think of me now I have came?"

Meantime the secret conference of Grotius and colleagues with the States
of Utrecht proceeded. As a provisional measure, Sir John Ogle, commander
of the forces paid by Holland, had been warned as to where his obedience
was due. It had likewise been intimated that the guard should be doubled
at the Amersfoort gate, and a watch set on the river Lek above and below
the city in order to prevent fresh troops of the States-General from
being introduced by surprise.

These precautions had been suggested a year before, as we have seen, in a
private autograph letter from Barneveld to Secretary Ledenberg.

Sir John Ogle had flatly refused to act in opposition to the Stadholder
and the States-General, whom he recognized as his lawful superiors and
masters, and he warned Ledenberg and his companions as to the perilous
nature of the course which they were pursuing. Great was the indignation
of the Utrechters and the Holland commissioners in consequence.

Grotius in his speech enlarged on the possibility of violence being used
by the Stadholder, while some of the members of the Assembly likewise
thought it likely that he would smite the gates open by force. Grotius,
when reproved afterwards for such strong language towards Prince Maurice,
said that true Hollanders were no courtiers, but were wont to call
everything by its right name.

He stated in strong language the regret felt by Holland that a majority
of the States of Utrecht had determined to disband the Waartgelders which
had been constitutionally enlisted according to the right of each
province under the 1st Article of the Union of Utrecht to protect itself
and its laws.

Next day there were conferences between Maurice and the States of Utrecht
and between him and the Holland deputies. The Stadholder calmly demanded
the disbandment and the Synod. The Hollanders spoke of securing first the
persons and rights of the magistracy.

"The magistrates are to be protected," said Maurice, "but we must first
know how they are going to govern. People have tried to introduce five
false points into the Divine worship. People have tried to turn me out of
the stadholdership and to drive me from the country. But I have taken my
measures. I know well what I am about. I have got five provinces on my
side, and six cities of Holland will send deputies to Utrecht to sustain
me here."

The Hollanders protested that there was no design whatever, so far as
they knew, against his princely dignity or person. All were ready to
recognize his rank and services by every means in their power. But it was
desirable by conciliation and compromise, not by stern decree, to arrange
these religious and political differences.

The Stadholder replied by again insisting on the Synod. "As for the
Waartgelders," he continued, "they are worse than Spanish fortresses.
They must away."

After a little further conversation in this vein the Prince grew more
excited.

"Everything is the fault of the Advocate," he cried.

"If Barneveld were dead," replied Grotius, "all the rest of us would
still deem ourselves bound to maintain the laws. People seem to despise
Holland and to wish to subject it to the other provinces."

"On the contrary," cried the Prince, "it is the Advocate who wishes to
make Holland the States-General."

Maurice was tired of argument. There had been much ale-house talk some
three months before by a certain blusterous gentleman called van Ostrum
about the necessity of keeping the Stadholder in check. "If the Prince
should undertake," said this pot-valiant hero, "to attack any of the
cities of Utrecht or Holland with the hard hand, it is settled to station
8000 or 10,000 soldiers in convenient places. Then we shall say to the
Prince, if you don't leave us alone, we shall make an arrangement with
the Archduke of Austria and resume obedience to him. We can make such a
treaty with him as will give us religious freedom and save us from
tyranny of any kind. I don't say this for myself, but have heard it on
good authority from very eminent persons."

This talk had floated through the air to the Stadholder.

What evidence could be more conclusive of a deep design on the part of
Barneveld to sell the Republic to the Archduke and drive Maurice into
exile? Had not Esquire van Ostrum solemnly declared it at a tavern table?
And although he had mentioned no names, could the "eminent personages"
thus cited at second hand be anybody but the Advocate?

Three nights after his last conference with the Hollanders, Maurice
quietly ordered a force of regular troops in Utrecht to be under arms at
half past three o'clock next morning. About 1000 infantry, including
companies of Ernest of Nassau's command at Arnhem and of Brederode's from
Vianen, besides a portion of the regular garrison of the place, had
accordingly been assembled without beat of drum, before half past three
in the morning, and were now drawn up on the market-place or Neu. At
break of day the Prince himself appeared on horseback surrounded by his
staff on the Neu or Neude, a large, long, irregular square into which the
seven or eight principal streets and thoroughfares of the town emptied
themselves. It was adorned by public buildings and other handsome
edifices, and the tall steeple of St. Martin's with its beautiful
open-work spire, lighted with the first rays of the midsummer sun, looked
tranquilly down upon the scene.

Each of the entrances to the square had been securely guarded by
Maurice's orders, and cannon planted to command all the streets. A single
company of the famous Waartgelders was stationed in the Neu or near it.
The Prince rode calmly towards them and ordered them to lay down their
arms. They obeyed without a murmur. He then sent through the city to
summon all the other companies of Waartgelders to the Neu. This was done
with perfect promptness, and in a short space of time the whole body of
mercenaries, nearly 1000 in number, had laid down their arms at the feet
of the Prince.

The snaphances and halberds being then neatly stacked in the square, the
Stadholder went home to his early breakfast. There was an end to those
mercenaries thenceforth and for ever. The faint and sickly resistance to
the authority of Maurice offered at Utrecht was attempted nowhere else.

For days there had been vague but fearful expectations of a "blood bath,"
of street battles, rioting, and plunder. Yet the Stadholder with the
consummate art which characterized all his military manoeuvres had so
admirably carried out his measure that not a shot was fired, not a blow
given, not a single burgher disturbed in his peaceful slumbers. When the
population had taken off their nightcaps, they woke to find the awful
bugbear removed which had so long been appalling them. The Waartgelders
were numbered with the terrors of the past, and not a cat had mewed at
their disappearance.

Charter-books, parchments, 13th Articles, Barneveld's teeth, Arminian
forts, flowery orations of Grotius, tavern talk of van Ostrum, city
immunities, States' rights, provincial laws, Waartgelders and all--the
martial Stadholder, with the orange plume in his hat and the sword of
Nieuwpoort on his thigh, strode through them as easily as through the
whirligigs and mountebanks, the wades and fritters, encumbering the
streets of Utrecht on the night of his arrival.

Secretary Ledenberg and other leading members of the States had escaped
the night before. Grotius and his colleagues also took a precipitate
departure. As they drove out of town in the twilight, they met the
deputies of the six opposition cities of Holland just arriving in their
coach from the Hague. Had they tarried an hour longer, they would have
found themselves safely in prison.

Four days afterwards the Stadholder at the head of his body-guard
appeared at the town-house. His halberdmen tramped up the broad
staircase, heralding his arrival to the assembled magistracy. He
announced his intention of changing the whole board then and there. The
process was summary. The forty members were required to supply forty
other names, and the Prince added twenty more. From the hundred
candidates thus furnished the Prince appointed forty magistrates such as
suited himself. It is needless to say that but few of the old bench
remained, and that those few were devoted to the Synod, the
States-General, and the Stadholder. He furthermore announced that these
new magistrates were to hold office for life, whereas the board had
previously been changed every year. The cathedral church was at once
assigned for the use of the Contra-Remonstrants.

This process was soon to be repeated throughout the two insubordinate
provinces Utrecht and Holland.

The Prince was accused of aiming at the sovereignty of the whole country,
and one of his grief's against the Advocate was that he had begged the
Princess-Widow, Louise de Coligny, to warn her son-in-law of the dangers
of such ambition. But so long as an individual, sword in hand, could
exercise such unlimited sway over the whole municipal, and provincial
organization of the Commonwealth, it mattered but little whether he was
called King or Kaiser, Doge or Stadholder. Sovereign he was for the time
being at least, while courteously acknowledging the States-General as his
sovereign.

Less than three weeks afterwards the States-General issued a decree
formally disbanding the Waartgelders; an almost superfluous edict, as
they had almost ceased to exist, and there were none to resist the
measure. Grotius recommended complete acquiescence. Barneveld's soul
could no longer animate with courage a whole people.

The invitations which had already in the month of June been prepared for
the Synod to meet in the city of Dortor Dordtrecht-were now issued. The
States of Holland sent back the notification unopened, deeming it an
unwarrantable invasion of their rights that an assembly resisted by a
large majority of their body should be convoked in a city on their own
territory. But this was before the disbandment of the Waartgelders and
the general change of magistracies had been effected.

Earnest consultations were now held as to the possibility of devising
some means of compromise; of providing that the decisions of the Synod
should not be considered binding until after having been ratified by the
separate states. In the opinion of Barneveld they were within a few
hours' work of a favourable result when their deliberations were
interrupted by a startling event.




CHAPTER XVIII.

   Fruitless Interview between Barneveld and Maurice--The Advocate,
   warned of his Danger, resolves to remain at the Hague--Arrest of
   Barneveld, of Qrotius, and of Hoogerbeets--The States-General assume
   the Responsibility in a "Billet"--The States of Holland protest--
   The Advocate's Letter to his Family--Audience of Boississe--
   Mischief-making of Aerssens--The French Ambassadors intercede for
   Barneveld--The King of England opposes their Efforts--Langerac's
   Treachery to the Advocate--Maurice continues his Changes in the
   Magistracy throughout the Country--Vote of Thanks by the States of
   Holland.

The Advocate, having done what he believed to be his duty, and exhausted
himself in efforts to defend ancient law and to procure moderation and
mutual toleration in religion, was disposed to acquiesce in the
inevitable. His letters giving official and private information of those
grave events were neither vindictive nor vehement.

"I send you the last declaration of My Lords of Holland," he said to
Caron, "in regard to the National Synod, with the counter-declaration of
Dordtrecht and the other five cities. Yesterday was begun the debate
about cashiering the enrolled soldiers called Waartgelders. To-day the
late M. van Kereburg was buried."

Nothing could be calmer than his tone. After the Waartgelders had been
disbanded, Utrecht revolutionized by main force, the National Synod
decided upon, and the process of changing the municipal magistracies
everywhere in the interest of Contra-Remonstrants begun, he continued to
urge moderation and respect for law. Even now, although discouraged, he
was not despondent, and was disposed to make the best even of the Synod.

He wished at this supreme moment to have a personal interview with the
Prince in order to devise some means for calming the universal agitation
and effecting, if possible, a reconciliation among conflicting passions
and warring sects. He had stood at the side of Maurice and of Maurice's
great father in darker hours even than these. They had turned to him on
all trying and tragical occasions and had never found his courage
wavering or his judgment at fault. "Not a friend to the House of Nassau,
but a father," thus had Maurice with his own lips described the Advocate
to the widow of William the Silent. Incapable of an unpatriotic thought,
animated by sincere desire to avert evil and procure moderate action,
Barneveld saw no reason whatever why, despite all that had been said and
done, he should not once more hold council with the Prince. He had a
conversation accordingly with Count Lewis, who had always honoured the
Advocate while differing with him on the religious question. The
Stadholder of Friesland, one of the foremost men of his day in military
and scientific affairs, in administrative ability and philanthropic
instincts, and, in a family perhaps the most renowned in Europe for
heroic qualities and achievements, hardly second to any who had borne the
name, was in favour of the proposed interview, spoke immediately to
Prince Maurice about it, but was not hopeful as to its results. He knew
his cousin well and felt that he was at that moment resentful, perhaps
implacably so, against the whole Remonstrant party and especially against
their great leader.

Count Lewis was small of stature, but dignified, not to say pompous, in
demeanour. His style of writing to one of lower social rank than himself
was lofty, almost regal, and full of old world formality.

"Noble, severe, right worshipful, highly learned and discreet, special
good friend," he wrote to Barneveld; "we have spoken to his Excellency
concerning the expediency of what you requested of us this forenoon. We
find however that his Excellency is not to be moved to entertain any
other measure than the National Synod which he has himself proposed in
person to all the provinces, to the furtherance of which he has made so
many exertions, and which has already been announced by the
States-General.

"We will see by what opportunity his Excellency will appoint the
interview, and so far as lies in us you may rely on our good offices. We
could not answer sooner as the French ambassadors had audience of us this
forenoon and we were visiting his Excellency in the afternoon. Wishing
your worship good evening, we are your very good friend."

Next day Count William wrote again. "We have taken occasion," he said,
"to inform his Excellency that you were inclined to enter into
communication with him in regard to an accommodation of the religious
difficulties and to the cashiering of the Waartgelders. He answered that
he could accept no change in the matter of the National Synod, but
nevertheless would be at your disposal whenever your worship should be
pleased to come to him."

Two days afterwards Barneveld made his appearance at the apartments of
the Stadholder. The two great men on whom the fabric of the Republic had
so long rested stood face to face once more.

The Advocate, with long grey beard and stern blue eye, haggard with
illness and anxiety, tall but bent with age, leaning on his staff and
wrapped in black velvet cloak--an imposing magisterial figure; the
florid, plethoric Prince in brown doublet, big russet boots, narrow ruff,
and shabby felt hat with its string of diamonds, with hand clutched on
swordhilt, and eyes full of angry menace, the very type of the high-born,
imperious soldier--thus they surveyed each other as men, once friends,
between whom a gulf had opened.

Barneveld sought to convince the Prince that in the proceedings at
Utrecht, founded as they were on strict adherence to the laws and
traditions of the Provinces, no disrespect had been intended to him, no
invasion of his constitutional rights, and that on his part his lifelong
devotion to the House of Nassau had suffered no change. He repeated his
usual incontrovertible arguments against the Synod, as illegal and
directly tending to subject the magistracy to the priesthood, a course of
things which eight-and-twenty years before had nearly brought destruction
on the country and led both the Prince and himself to captivity in a
foreign land.

The Prince sternly replied in very few words that the National Synod was
a settled matter, that he would never draw back from his position, and
could not do so without singular disservice to the country and to his own
disreputation. He expressed his displeasure at the particular oath
exacted from the Waartgelders. It diminished his lawful authority and the
respect due to him, and might be used per indirectum to the oppression of
those of the religion which he had sworn to maintain. His brow grew black
when he spoke of the proceedings at Utrecht, which he denounced as a
conspiracy against his own person and the constitution of the country.

Barneveld used in vain the powers of argument by which he had guided
kings and republics, cabinets and assemblies, during so many years. His
eloquence fell powerless upon the iron taciturnity of the Stadholder.
Maurice had expressed his determination and had no other argument to
sustain it but his usual exasperating silence.

The interview ended as hopelessly as Count Lewis William had anticipated,
and the Prince and the Advocate separated to meet no more on earth.

"You have doubtless heard already," wrote Barneveld to the ambassador in
London, "of all that has been passing here and in Utrecht. One must pray
to God that everything may prosper to his honour and the welfare of the
country. They are resolved to go through with the National Synod, the
government of Utrecht after the change made in it having consented with
the rest. I hope that his Majesty, according to your statement, will send
some good, learned, and peace-loving personages here, giving them
wholesome instructions to help bring our affairs into Christian unity,
accommodation, and love, by which his Majesty and these Provinces would
be best served."

Were these the words of a baffled conspirator and traitor? Were they
uttered to produce an effect upon public opinion and avert a merited
condemnation by all good men? There is not in them a syllable of
reproach, of anger, of despair. And let it be remembered that they were
not written for the public at all. They were never known to the public,
hardly heard of either by the Advocate's enemies or friends, save the one
to whom they were addressed and the monarch to whom that friend was
accredited. They were not contained in official despatches, but in
private, confidential outpourings to a trusted political and personal
associate of many years. From the day they were written until this hour
they have never been printed, and for centuries perhaps not read.

He proceeded to explain what he considered to be the law in the
Netherlands with regard to military allegiance. It is not probable that
there was in the country a more competent expounder of it; and defective
and even absurd as such a system was, it had carried the Provinces
successfully through a great war, and a better method for changing it
might have been found among so law-loving and conservative a people as
the Netherlanders than brute force.

"Information has apparently been sent to England," he said, "that My
Lords of Holland through their commissioners in Utrecht dictated to the
soldiery standing at their charges something that was unreasonable. The
truth is that the States of Holland, as many of them as were assembled,
understanding that great haste was made to send his Excellency and some
deputies from the other provinces to Utrecht, while the members of the
Utrecht assembly were gone to report these difficulties to their
constituents and get fresh instructions from them, wishing that the
return of those members should be waited for and that the Assembly of
Holland might also be complete--a request which was refused--sent a
committee to Utrecht, as the matter brooked no delay, to give information
to the States of that province of what was passing here and to offer
their good offices.

"They sent letters also to his Excellency to move him to reasonable
accommodation without taking extreme measures in opposition to those
resolutions of the States of Utrecht which his Excellency had promised to
conform with and to cause to be maintained by all officers and soldiers.
Should his Excellency make difficulty in this, the commissioners were
instructed to declare to him that they were ordered to warn the colonels
and captains standing in the payment of Holland, by letter and word of
mouth, that they were bound by oath to obey the States of Holland as
their paymasters and likewise to carry out the orders of the provincial
and municipal magistrates in the places where they were employed. The
soldiery was not to act or permit anything to be done against those
resolutions, but help to carry them out, his Excellency himself and the
troops paid by the States of Holland being indisputably bound by oath and
duty so to do."

Doubtless a more convenient arrangement from a military point of view
might be imagined than a system of quotas by which each province in a
confederacy claimed allegiance and exacted obedience from the troops paid
by itself in what was after all a general army. Still this was the
logical and inevitable result of State rights pushed to the extreme and
indeed had been the indisputable theory and practice in the Netherlands
ever since their revolt from Spain. To pretend that the proceedings and
the oath were new because they were embarrassing was absurd. It was only
because the dominant party saw the extreme inconvenience of the system,
now that it was turned against itself, that individuals contemptuous of
law and ignorant of history denounced it as a novelty.

But the strong and beneficent principle that lay at the bottom of the
Advocate's conduct was his unflagging resolve to maintain the civil
authority over the military in time of peace. What liberal or healthy
government would be possible otherwise? Exactly as he opposed the
subjection of the magistracy by the priesthood or the mob, so he now
defended it against the power of the sword. There was no justification
whatever for a claim on the part of Maurice to exact obedience from all
the armies of the Republic, especially in time of peace. He was himself
by oath sworn to obey the States of Holland, of Utrecht, and of the three
other provinces of which he was governor. He was not commander-in-chief.
In two of the seven provinces he had no functions whatever, military or
civil. They had another governor.

Yet the exposition of the law, as it stood, by the Advocate and his claim
that both troops and Stadholder should be held to their oaths was
accounted a crime. He had invented a new oath--it was said--and sought to
diminish the power of the Prince. These were charges, unjust as they
were, which might one day be used with deadly effect.

"We live in a world where everything is interpreted to the worst," he
said. "My physical weakness continues and is increased by this
affliction. I place my trust in God the Lord and in my upright and
conscientious determination to serve the country, his Excellency, and the
religion in which through God's grace I hope to continue to the end."

On the 28th August of a warm afternoon, Barneveld was seated on a
porcelain seat in an arbor in his garden. Councillor Berkhout,
accompanied by a friend, called to see him, and after a brief
conversation gave him solemn warning that danger was impending, that
there was even a rumour of an intention to arrest him.

The Advocate answered gravely, "Yes, there are wicked men about."

Presently he lifted his hat courteously and said, "I thank you,
gentlemen, for the warning."

It seems scarcely to have occurred to him that he had been engaged in
anything beyond a constitutional party struggle in which he had defended
what in his view was the side of law and order. He never dreamt of
seeking safety in flight. Some weeks before, he had been warmly advised
to do as both he and Maurice had done in former times in order to escape
the stratagems of Leicester, to take refuge in some strong city devoted
to his interests rather than remain at the Hague. But he had declined the
counsel. "I will await the issue of this business," he said, "in the
Hague, where my home is, and where I have faithfully served my masters. I
had rather for the sake of the Fatherland suffer what God chooses to send
me for having served well than that through me and on my account any city
should fall into trouble and difficulties."

Next morning, Wednesday, at seven o'clock, Uytenbogaert paid him a visit.
He wished to consult him concerning a certain statement in regard to the
Synod which he desired him to lay before the States of Holland. The
preacher did not find his friend busily occupied at his desk, as usual,
with writing and other work. The Advocate had pushed his chair away from
the table encumbered with books and papers, and sat with his back leaning
against it, lost in thought. His stern, stoical face was like that of a
lion at bay.

Uytenbogaert tried to arouse him from his gloom, consoling him by
reflections on the innumerable instances, in all countries and ages, of
patriotic statesmen who for faithful service had reaped nothing but
ingratitude.

Soon afterwards he took his leave, feeling a presentiment of evil within
him which it was impossible for him to shake off as he pressed
Barneveld's hand at parting.

Two hours later, the Advocate went in his coach to the session of the
States of Holland. The place of the Assembly as well as that of the
States-General was within what was called the Binnenhof or Inner Court;
the large quadrangle enclosing the ancient hall once the residence of the
sovereign Counts of Holland. The apartments of the Stadholder composed
the south-western portion of the large series of buildings surrounding
this court. Passing by these lodgings on his way to the Assembly, he was
accosted by a chamberlain of the Prince and informed that his Highness
desired to speak with him. He followed him towards the room where such
interviews were usually held, but in the antechamber was met by
Lieutenant Nythof, of the Prince's bodyguard. This officer told him that
he had been ordered to arrest him in the name of the States-General. The
Advocate demanded an interview with the Prince. It was absolutely
refused. Physical resistance on the part of a man of seventy-two,
stooping with age and leaning on a staff, to military force, of which
Nythof was the representative, was impossible. Barneveld put a cheerful
face on the matter, and was even inclined to converse. He was at once
carried off a prisoner and locked up in a room belonging to Maurice's
apartments.

Soon afterwards, Grotius on his way to the States-General was invited in
precisely the same manner to go to the Prince, with whom, as he was
informed, the Advocate was at that moment conferring. As soon as he had
ascended the stairs however, he was arrested by Captain van der Meulen in
the name of the States-General, and taken to a chamber in the same
apartments, where he was guarded by two halberdmen. In the evening he was
removed to another chamber where the window shutters were barred, and
where he remained three days and nights. He was much cast down and
silent. Pensionary Hoogerbeets was made prisoner in precisely the same
manner. Thus the three statesmen--culprits as they were considered by
their enemies--were secured without noise or disturbance, each without
knowing the fate that had befallen the other. Nothing could have been
more neatly done. In the same quiet way orders were sent to secure
Secretary Ledenberg, who had returned to Utrecht, and who now after a
short confinement in that city was brought to the Hague and imprisoned in
the Hof.

At the very moment of the Advocate's arrest his son-in-law van der Myle
happened to be paying a visit to Sir Dudley Carleton, who had arrived
very late the night before from England. It was some hours before he or
any other member of the family learned what had befallen.

The Ambassador reported to his sovereign that the deed was highly
applauded by the well disposed as the only means left for the security of
the state. "The Arminians," he said, "condemn it as violent and
insufferable in a free republic."

Impartial persons, he thought, considered it a superfluous proceeding now
that the Synod had been voted and the Waartgelders disbanded.

While he was writing his despatch, the Stadholder came to call upon him,
attended by his cousin Count Lewis William. The crowd of citizens
following at a little distance, excited by the news with which the city
was now ringing, mingled with Maurice's gentlemen and bodyguards and
surged up almost into the Ambassador's doors.

Carleton informed his guests, in the course of conversation, as to the
general opinion of indifferent judges of these events. Maurice replied
that he had disbanded the Waartgelders, but it had now become necessary
to deal with their colonel and the chief captains, meaning thereby
Barneveld and the two other prisoners.

The news of this arrest was soon carried to the house of Barneveld, and
filled his aged wife, his son, and sons-in-law with grief and
indignation. His eldest son William, commonly called the Seignior van
Groeneveld, accompanied by his two brothers-in-law, Veenhuyzen, President
of the Upper Council, and van der Myle, obtained an interview with the
Stadholder that same afternoon.

They earnestly requested that the Advocate, in consideration of his
advanced age, might on giving proper bail be kept prisoner in his own
house.

The Prince received them at first with courtesy. "It is the work of the
States-General," he said, "no harm shall come to your father any more
than to myself."

Veenhuyzen sought to excuse the opposition which the Advocate had made to
the Cloister Church.

The word was scarcely out of his mouth when the Prince fiercely
interrupted him--"Any man who says a word against the Cloister Church,"
he cried in a rage, "his feet shall not carry him from this place."

The interview gave them on the whole but little satisfaction. Very soon
afterwards two gentlemen, Asperen and Schagen, belonging to the Chamber
of Nobles, and great adherents of Barneveld, who had procured their
enrolment in that branch, forced their way into the Stadholder's
apartments and penetrated to the door of the room where the Advocate was
imprisoned. According to Carleton they were filled with wine as well as
rage, and made a great disturbance, loudly demanding their patron's
liberation. Maurice came out of his own cabinet on hearing the noise in
the corridor, and ordered them to be disarmed and placed under arrest. In
the evening however they were released.

Soon afterwards van der Myle fled to Paris, where he endeavoured to make
influence with the government in favour of the Advocate. His departure
without leave, being, as he was, a member of the Chamber of Nobles and of
the council of state, was accounted a great offence. Uytenbogaert also
made his escape, as did Taurinus, author of The Balance, van Moersbergen
of Utrecht, and many others more or less implicated in these commotions.

There was profound silence in the States of Holland when the arrest of
Barneveld was announced. The majority sat like men distraught. At last
Matenesse said, "You have taken from us our head, our tongue, and our
hand, henceforth we can only sit still and look on."

The States-General now took the responsibility of the arrest, which eight
individuals calling themselves the States-General had authorized by
secret resolution the day before (28th August). On the 29th accordingly,
the following "Billet," as it was entitled, was read to the Assembly and
ordered to be printed and circulated among the community. It was without
date or signature.

"Whereas in the course of the changes within the city of Utrecht and in
other places brought about by the high and mighty Lords the
States-General of the United Netherlands, through his Excellency and
their Lordships' committee to him adjoined, sundry things have been
discovered of which previously there had been great suspicion, tending to
the great prejudice of the Provinces in general and of each province in
particular, not without apparent danger to the state of the country, and
that thereby not only the city of Utrecht, but various other cities of
the United Provinces would have fallen into a blood bath; and whereas the
chief ringleaders in these things are considered to be John van
Barneveld, Advocate of Holland, Rombout Hoogerbeets, and Hugo Grotius,
whereof hereafter shall declaration and announcement be made, therefore
their High Mightinesses, in order to prevent these and similar
inconveniences, to place the country in security, and to bring the good
burghers of all the cities into friendly unity again, have resolved to
arrest those three persons, in order that out of their imprisonment they
may be held to answer duly for their actions and offences."

The deputies of Holland in the States-General protested on the same day
against the arrest, declaring themselves extraordinarily amazed at such
proceedings, without their knowledge, with usurpation of their
jurisdiction, and that they should refer to their principals for
instructions in the matter.

They reported accordingly at once to the States of Holland in session in
the same building. Soon afterwards however a committee of five from the
States-General appeared before the Assembly to justify the proceeding. On
their departure there arose a great debate, the six cities of course
taking part with Maurice and the general government. It was finally
resolved by the majority to send a committee to the Stadholder to
remonstrate with, and by the six opposition cities another committee to
congratulate him, on his recent performances.

His answer was to this effect:

"What had happened was not by his order, but had been done by the
States-General, who must be supposed not to have acted without good
cause. Touching the laws and jurisdiction of Holland he would not himself
dispute, but the States of Holland would know how to settle that matter
with the States-General."

Next day it was resolved in the Holland assembly to let the affair remain
as it was for the time being. Rapid changes were soon to be expected in
that body, hitherto so staunch for the cause of municipal laws and State
rights.

Meantime Barneveld sat closely guarded in the apartments of the
Stadholder, while the country and very soon all Europe were ringing with
the news of his downfall, imprisonment, and disgrace. The news was a
thunder-bolt to the lovers of religious liberty, a ray of dazzling
sunlight after a storm to the orthodox.

The showers of pamphlets, villanous lampoons, and libels began afresh.
The relatives of the fallen statesman could not appear in the streets
without being exposed to insult, and without hearing scurrilous and
obscene verses against their father and themselves, in which neither sex
nor age was spared, howled in their ears by all the ballad-mongers and
broadsheet vendors of the town. The unsigned publication of the
States-General, with its dark allusions to horrible discoveries and
promised revelations which were never made, but which reduced themselves
at last to the gibberish of a pot-house bully, the ingenious libels, the
powerfully concocted and poisonous calumnies, caricatures, and lampoons,
had done their work. People stared at each other in the streets with open
mouths as they heard how the Advocate had for years and years been the
hireling of Spain, whose government had bribed him largely to bring about
the Truce and kill the West India Company; how his pockets and his
coffers were running over with Spanish ducats; how his plot to sell the
whole country to the ancient tyrant, drive the Prince of Orange into
exile, and bring every city of the Netherlands into a "blood-bath," had,
just in time, been discovered.

And the people believed it and hated the man they had so lately honoured,
and were ready to tear him to pieces in the streets. Men feared to defend
him lest they too should be accused of being stipendiaries of Spain. It
was a piteous spectacle; not for the venerable statesman sitting alone
there in his prison, but for the Republic in its lunacy, for human nature
in its meanness and shame. He whom Count Lewis, although opposed to his
politics, had so lately called one of the two columns on which the whole
fabric of the States reposed, Prince Maurice being the other, now lay
prostrate in the dust and reviled of all men.

"Many who had been promoted by him to high places," said a contemporary,
"and were wont to worship him as a god, in hope that he would lift them
up still higher, now deserted him, and ridiculed him, and joined the rest
of the world in heaping dirt upon him."

On the third day of his imprisonment the Advocate wrote this letter to
his family:--

"My very dear wife, children, children-in-law, and grandchildren,--I know
that you are sorrowful for the troubles which have come upon me, but I
beg you to seek consolation from God the Almighty and to comfort each
other. I know before the Lord God of having given no single lawful reason
for the misfortunes which have come upon me, and I will with patience
await from His Divine hand and from my lawful superiors a happy issue,
knowing well that you and my other well-wishers will with your prayers
and good offices do all that you can to that end.

"And so, very dear wife, children, children-in-law, and grandchildren, I
commend you to God's holy keeping.

"I have been thus far well and honourably treated and accommodated, for
which I thank his princely Excellency.

"From my chamber of arrest, last of August, anno 1618.

"Your dear husband, father, father-in-law, and grand father,

                  "JOHN OF BARNEVELD."

On the margin was written:

"From the first I have requested and have at last obtained materials for
writing."

A fortnight before the arrest, but while great troubles were known to be
impending, the French ambassador extraordinary, de Boississe, had
audience before the Assembly of the States-General. He entreated them to
maintain the cause of unity and peace as the foundation of their state;
"that state," he said, "which lifts its head so high that it equals or
surpasses the mightiest republics that ever existed, and which could not
have risen to such a height of honour and grandeur in so short a time,
but through harmony and union of all the provinces, through the valour of
his Excellency, and through your own wise counsels, both sustained by our
great king, whose aid is continued by his son."--"The King my master," he
continued, "knows not the cause of your disturbances. You have not
communicated them to him, but their most apparent cause is a difference
of opinion, born in the schools, thence brought before the public, upon a
point of theology. That point has long been deemed by many to be so hard
and so high that the best advice to give about it is to follow what God's
Word teaches touching God's secrets; to wit, that one should use
moderation and modesty therein and should not rashly press too far into
that which he wishes to be covered with the veil of reverence and wonder.
That is a wise ignorance to keep one's eyes from that which God chooses
to conceal. He calls us not to eternal life through subtle and perplexing
questions."

And further exhorting them to conciliation and compromise, he enlarged on
the effect of their internal dissensions on their exterior relations.
"What joy, what rapture you are preparing for your neighbours by your
quarrels! How they will scorn you! How they will laugh! What a hope do
you give them of revenging themselves upon you without danger to
themselves! Let me implore you to baffle their malice, to turn their joy
into mourning, to unite yourselves to confound them."

He spoke much more in the same vein, expressing wise and moderate
sentiments. He might as well have gone down to the neighbouring beach
when a south-west gale was blowing and talked of moderation to the waves
of the German Ocean. The tempest of passion and prejudice had risen in
its might and was sweeping all before it. Yet the speech, like other
speeches and intercessions made at this epoch by de Boississe and by the
regular French ambassador, du Maurier, was statesmanlike and reasonable.
It is superfluous to say that it was in unison with the opinions of
Barneveld, for Barneveld had probably furnished the text of the oration.
Even as he had a few years before supplied the letters which King James
had signed and subsequently had struggled so desperately to disavow, so
now the Advocate's imperious intellect had swayed the docile and amiable
minds of the royal envoys into complete sympathy with his policy. He
usually dictated their general instructions. But an end had come to such
triumphs. Dudley Carleton had returned from his leave of absence in
England, where he had found his sovereign hating the Advocate as doctors
hate who have been worsted in theological arguments and despots who have
been baffled in their imperious designs. Who shall measure the influence
on the destiny of this statesman caused by the French-Spanish marriages,
the sermons of James through the mouth of Carleton, and the mutual
jealousy of France and England?

But the Advocate was in prison, and the earth seemed to have closed over
him. Hardly a ripple of indignation was perceptible on the calm surface
of affairs, although in the States-General as in the States of Holland
his absence seemed to have reduced both bodies to paralysis.

They were the more easily handled by the prudent, skilful, and determined
Maurice.

The arrest of the four gentlemen had been communicated to the kings of
France and Great Britain and the Elector-Palatine in an identical letter
from the States-General. It is noticeable that on this occasion the
central government spoke of giving orders to the Prince of Orange, over
whom they would seem to have had no legitimate authority, while on the
other hand he had expressed indignation on more than one occasion that
the respective states of the five provinces where he was governor and to
whom he had sworn obedience should presume to issue commands to him.

In France, where the Advocate was honoured and beloved, the intelligence
excited profound sorrow. A few weeks previously the government of that
country had, as we have seen, sent a special ambassador to the States, M.
de Boississe, to aid the resident envoy, du Maurier, in his efforts to
bring about a reconciliation of parties and a termination of the
religious feud. Their exertions were sincere and unceasing. They were as
steadily countermined by Francis Aerssens, for the aim of that
diplomatist was to bring about a state of bad feeling, even at cost of
rupture, between the Republic and France, because France was friendly to
the man he most hated and whose ruin he had sworn.

During the summer a bitter personal controversy had been going on,
sufficiently vulgar in tone, between Aerssens and another diplomatist,
Barneveld's son-in-law, Cornelis van der Myle. It related to the recall
of Aerssens from the French embassy of which enough has already been laid
before the reader. Van der Myle by the production of the secret letters
of the Queen-Dowager and her counsellors had proved beyond dispute that
it was at the express wish of the French government that the Ambassador
had retired, and that indeed they had distinctly refused to receive him,
should he return. Foul words resulting in propositions for a hostile
meeting on the frontier, which however came to nothing, were interchanged
and Aerssens in the course of his altercation with the son-inlaw had
found ample opportunity for venting his spleen upon his former patron the
now fallen statesman.

Four days after the arrest of Barneveld he brought the whole matter
before the States-General, and the intention with which he thus raked up
the old quarrel with France after the death of Henry, and his charges in
regard to the Spanish marriages, was as obvious as it was deliberate.

The French ambassadors were furious. Boississe had arrived not simply as
friend of the Advocate, but to assure the States of the strong desire
entertained by the French government to cultivate warmest relations with
them. It had been desired by the Contra-Remonstrant party that deputies
from the Protestant churches of France should participate in the Synod,
and the French king had been much assailed by the Catholic powers for
listening to those suggestions. The Papal nuncius, the Spanish
ambassador, the envoy of the Archduke, had made a great disturbance at
court concerning the mission of Boississe. They urged with earnestness
that his Majesty was acting against the sentiments of Spain, Rome, and
the whole Catholic Church, and that he ought not to assist with his
counsel those heretics who were quarrelling among themselves over points
in their heretical religion and wishing to destroy each other.

Notwithstanding this outcry the weather was smooth enough until the
proceedings of Aerssens came to stir up a tempest at the French court. A
special courier came from Boississe, a meeting of the whole council,
although it was Sunday, was instantly called, and the reply of the
States-General to the remonstrance of the Ambassador in the Aerssens
affair was pronounced to be so great an affront to the King that, but for
overpowering reasons, diplomatic intercourse would have at once been
suspended. "Now instead of friendship there is great anger here," said
Langerac. The king forbade under vigorous penalties the departure of any
French theologians to take part in the Synod, although the royal consent
had nearly been given. The government complained that no justice was done
in the Netherlands to the French nation, that leading personages there
openly expressed contempt for the French alliance, denouncing the country
as "Hispaniolized," and declaring that all the council were regularly
pensioned by Spain for the express purpose of keeping up the civil
dissensions in the United Provinces.

Aerssens had publicly and officially declared that a majority of the
French council since the death of Henry had declared the crown in its
temporal as well as spiritual essence to be dependent on the Pope, and
that the Spanish marriages had been made under express condition of the
renunciation of the friendship and alliance of the States.

Such were among the first-fruits of the fall of Barneveld and the triumph
of Aerssens, for it was he in reality who had won the victory, and he had
gained it over both Stadholder and Advocate. Who was to profit by the
estrangement between the Republic and its powerful ally at a moment too
when that great kingdom was at last beginning to emerge from the darkness
and nothingness of many years, with the faint glimmering dawn of a new
great policy?

Barneveld, whose masterful statesmanship, following out the traditions of
William the Silent, had ever maintained through good and ill report
cordial and beneficent relations between the two countries, had always
comprehended, even as a great cardinal-minister was ere long to teach the
world, that the permanent identification of France with Spain and the
Roman League was unnatural and impossible.

Meantime Barneveld sat in his solitary prison, knowing not what was
passing on that great stage where he had so long been the chief actor,
while small intriguers now attempted to control events.

It was the intention of Aerssens to return to the embassy in Paris whence
he had been driven, in his own opinion, so unjustly. To render himself
indispensable, he had begun by making himself provisionally formidable to
the King's government. Later, there would be other deeds to do before the
prize was within his grasp.

Thus the very moment when France was disposed to cultivate the most
earnest friendship with the Republic had been seized for fastening an
insult upon her. The Twelve Years' Truce with Spain was running to its
close, the relations between France and Spain were unusually cold, and
her friendship therefore more valuable than ever.

On the other hand the British king was drawing closer his relations with
Spain, and his alliance was demonstrably of small account. The phantom of
the Spanish bride had become more real to his excited vision than ever,
so that early in the year, in order to please Gondemar, he had been
willing to offer an affront to the French ambassador.

The Prince of Wales had given a splendid masquerade at court, to which
the envoy of his Most Catholic Majesty was bidden. Much to his amazement
the representative of the Most Christian King received no invitation,
notwithstanding that he had taken great pains to procure one. M. de la
Boderie was very angry, and went about complaining to the States'
ambassador and his other colleagues of the slight, and darkened the lives
of the court functionaries having charge of such matters with his
vengeance and despair. It was represented to him that he had himself been
asked to a festival the year before when Count Gondemar was left out. It
was hinted to him that the King had good reasons for what he did, as the
marriage with the daughter of Spain was now in train, and it was
desirable that the Spanish ambassador should be able to observe the
Prince's disposition and make a more correct report of it to his
government. It was in vain. M. de la Boderie refused to be comforted, and
asserted that one had no right to leave the French ambassador uninvited
to any "festival or triumph" at court. There was an endless disturbance.
De la Boderie sent his secretary off to Paris to complain to the King
that his ambassador was of no account in London, while much favour was
heaped upon the Spaniard. The Secretary returned with instructions from
Lewis that the Ambassador was to come home immediately, and he went off
accordingly in dudgeon. "I could see that he was in the highest degree
indignant," said Caron, who saw him before he left, "and I doubt not that
his departure will increase and keep up the former jealousy between the
governments."

The ill-humor created by this event lasted a long time, serving to
neutralize or at least perceptibly diminish the Spanish influence
produced in France by the Spanish marriages. In the autumn, Secretary de
Puysieux by command of the King ordered every Spaniard to leave the
French court. All the "Spanish ladies and gentlemen, great and small,"
who had accompanied the Queen from Madrid were included in this expulsion
with the exception of four individuals, her Majesty's father confessor,
physician, apothecary, and cook.

The fair young queen was much vexed and shed bitter tears at this
calamity, which, as she spoke nothing but Spanish, left her isolated at
the court, but she was a little consoled by the promise that thenceforth
the King would share her couch. It had not yet occurred to him that he
was married.

The French envoys at the Hague exhausted themselves in efforts, both
private and public, in favour of the prisoners, but it was a thankless
task. Now that the great man and his chief pupils and adherents were out
of sight, a war of shameless calumny was began upon him, such as has
scarcely a parallel in political history.

It was as if a whole tribe of noxious and obscene reptiles were swarming
out of the earth which had suddenly swallowed him. But it was not alone
the obscure or the anonymous who now triumphantly vilified him. Men in
high places who had partaken of his patronage, who had caressed him and
grovelled before him, who had grown great through his tuition and rich
through his bounty, now rejoiced in his ruin or hastened at least to save
themselves from being involved in it. Not a man of them all but fell away
from him like water. Even the great soldier forgot whose respectful but
powerful hand it was which, at the most tragical moment, had lifted him
from the high school at Leyden into the post of greatest power and
responsibility, and had guided his first faltering footsteps by the light
of his genius and experience. Francis Aerssens, master of the field, had
now become the political tutor of the mature Stadholder. Step by step we
have been studying the inmost thoughts of the Advocate as revealed in his
secret and confidential correspondence, and the reader has been enabled
to judge of the wantonness of the calumny which converted the determined
antagonist into the secret friend of Spain. Yet it had produced its
effect upon Maurice.

He told the French ambassadors a month after the arrest that Barneveld
had been endeavouring, during and since the Truce negotiations, to bring
back the Provinces, especially Holland, if not under the dominion of, at
least under some kind of vassalage to Spain. Persons had been feeling the
public pulse as to the possibility of securing permanent peace by paying
tribute to Spain, and this secret plan of Barneveld had so alienated him
from the Prince as to cause him to attempt every possible means of
diminishing or destroying altogether his authority. He had spread through
many cities that Maurice wished to make himself master of the state by
using the religious dissensions to keep the people weakened and divided.

There is not a particle of evidence, and no attempt was ever made to
produce any, that the Advocate had such plan, but certainly, if ever, man
had made himself master of a state, that man was Maurice. He continued
however to place himself before the world as the servant of the
States-General, which he never was, either theoretically or in fact.

The French ambassadors became every day more indignant and more
discouraged. It was obvious that Aerssens, their avowed enemy, was
controlling the public policy of the government. Not only was there no
satisfaction to be had for the offensive manner in which he had filled
the country with his ancient grievances and his nearly forgotten charges
against the Queen-Dowager and those who had assisted her in the regency,
but they were repulsed at every turn when by order of their sovereign
they attempted to use his good offices in favour of the man who had ever
been the steady friend of France.

The Stadholder also professed friendship for that country, and referred
to Colonel-General Chatillon, who had for a long time commanded the
French regiments in the Netherlands, for confirmation of his uniform
affection for those troops and attachment to their sovereign.

He would do wonders, he said, if Lewis would declare war upon Spain by
land and sea.

"Such fruits are not ripe," said Boississe, "nor has your love for France
been very manifest in recent events."

"Barneveld," replied the Prince, "has personally offended me, and has
boasted that he would drive me out of the country like Leicester. He is
accused of having wished to trouble the country in order to bring it back
under the yoke of Spain. Justice will decide. The States only are
sovereign to judge this question. You must address yourself to them."

"The States," replied the ambassadors, "will require to be aided by your
counsels."

The Prince made no reply and remained chill and "impregnable." The
ambassadors continued their intercessions in behalf of the prisoners both
by public address to the Assembly and by private appeals to the
Stadholder and his influential friends. In virtue of the intimate
alliance and mutual guarantees existing between their government and the
Republic they claimed the acceptance of their good offices. They insisted
upon a regular trial of the prisoners according to the laws of the land,
that is to say, by the high court of Holland, which alone had
jurisdiction in the premises. If they had been guilty of high-treason,
they should be duly arraigned. In the name of the signal services of
Barneveld and of the constant friendship of that great magistrate for
France, the King demanded clemency or proof of his crimes. His Majesty
complained through his ambassadors of the little respect shown for his
counsels and for his friendship. "In times past you found ever prompt and
favourable action in your time of need."

"This discourse," said Maurice to Chatillon, "proceeds from evil
intention."

Thus the prisoners had disappeared from human sight, and their enemies
ran riot in slandering them. Yet thus far no public charges had been
made.

"Nothing appears against them," said du Maurier, "and people are
beginning to open their mouths with incredible freedom. While waiting for
the condemnation of the prisoners, one is determined to dishonour them."

The French ambassadors were instructed to intercede to the last, but they
were steadily repulsed--while the King of Great Britain, anxious to gain
favour with Spain by aiding in the ruin of one whom he knew and Spain
knew to be her determined foe, did all he could through his ambassador to
frustrate their efforts and bring on a catastrophe. The States-General
and Maurice were now on as confidential terms with Carleton as they were
cold and repellent to Boississe and du Maurier.

"To recall to them the benefits of the King," said du Maurier, "is to
beat the air. And then Aerssens bewitches them, and they imagine that
after having played runaway horses his Majesty will be only too happy to
receive them back, caress them, and, in order to have their friendship,
approve everything they have been doing right or wrong."

Aerssens had it all his own way, and the States-General had just paid him
12,000 francs in cash on the ground that Langerac's salary was larger
than his had been when at the head of the same embassy many years before.

His elevation into the body of nobles, which Maurice had just stocked
with five other of his partisans, was accounted an additional affront to
France, while on the other hand the Queen-Mother, having through
Epernon's assistance made her escape from Blois, where she had been kept
in durance since the death of Concini, now enumerated among other
grievances for which she was willing to take up arms against her son that
the King's government had favoured Barneveld.

It was strange that all the devotees of Spain--Mary de' Medici, and
Epernon, as well as James I. and his courtiers--should be thus embittered
against the man who had sold the Netherlands to Spain.

At last the Prince told the French ambassadors that the "people of the
Provinces considered their persistent intercessions an invasion of their
sovereignty." Few would have anything to say to them. "No one listens to
us, no one replies to us," said du Maurier, "everyone visiting us is
observed, and it is conceived a reproach here to speak to the ambassadors
of France."

Certainly the days were changed since Henry IV. leaned on the arm of
Barneveld, and consulted with him, and with him only, among all the
statesmen of Europe on his great schemes for regenerating Christendom and
averting that general war which, now that the great king had been
murdered and the Advocate imprisoned, had already begun to ravage Europe.

Van der Myle had gone to Paris to make such exertions as he could among
the leading members of the council in favour of his father-in-law.
Langerac, the States' ambassador there, who but yesterday had been
turning at every moment to the Advocate for light and warmth as to the
sun, now hastened to disavow all respect or regard for him. He scoffed at
the slender sympathy van der Myle was finding in the bleak political
atmosphere. He had done his best to find out what he had been negotiating
with the members of the council and was glad to say that it was so
inconsiderable as to be not worth reporting. He had not spoken with or
seen the King. Jeannin, his own and his father-in-law's principal and
most confidential friend, had only spoken with him half an hour and then
departed for Burgundy, although promising to confer with him
sympathetically on his return. "I am very displeased at his coming here,"
said Langerac, ". . . . but he has found little friendship or
confidence, and is full of woe and apprehension."

The Ambassador's labours were now confined to personally soliciting the
King's permission for deputations from the Reformed churches of France to
go to the Synod, now opened (13th November) at Dordtrecht, and to
clearing his own skirts with the Prince and States-General of any
suspicion of sympathy with Barneveld.

In the first object he was unsuccessful, the King telling him at last
"with clear and significant words that this was impossible, on account of
his conscience, his respect for the Catholic religion, and many other
reasons."

In regard to the second point he acted with great promptness.

He received a summons in January 1619 from the States-General and the
Prince to send them all letters that he had ever received from Barneveld.
He crawled at once to Maurice on his knees, with the letters in his hand.

"Most illustrious, high-born Prince, most gracious Lord," he said;
"obeying the commands which it has pleased the States and your princely
Grace to give me, I send back the letters of Advocate Barneveld. If your
princely Grace should find anything in them showing that the said
Advocate had any confidence in me, I most humbly beg your princely Grace
to believe that I never entertained any affection for, him, except only
in respect to and so far as he was in credit and good authority with the
government, and according to the upright zeal which I thought I could see
in him for the service of My high and puissant Lords the States-General
and of your princely Grace."

Greater humbleness could be expected of no ambassador. Most nobly did the
devoted friend and pupil of the great statesman remember his duty to the
illustrious Prince and their High Mightinesses. Most promptly did he
abjure his patron now that he had fallen into the abyss.

"Nor will it be found," he continued, "that I have had any sympathy or
communication with the said Advocate except alone in things concerning my
service. The great trust I had in him as the foremost and oldest
counsellor of the state, as the one who so confidentially instructed me
on my departure for France, and who had obtained for himself so great
authority that all the most important affairs of the country were
entrusted to him, was the cause that I simply and sincerely wrote to him
all that people were in the habit of saying at this court.

"If I had known in the least or suspected that he was not what he ought
to be in the service of My Lords the States and of your princely Grace
and for the welfare and tranquillity of the land, I should have been well
on my guard against letting myself in the least into any kind of
communication with him whatever."

The reader has seen how steadily and frankly the Advocate had kept
Langerac as well as Caron informed of passing events, and how little
concealment he made of his views in regard to the Synod, the
Waartgelders, and the respective authority of the States-General and
States-Provincial. Not only had Langerac no reason to suspect that
Barneveld was not what he ought to be, but he absolutely knew the
contrary from that most confidential correspondence with him which he was
now so abjectly repudiating. The Advocate, in a protracted constitutional
controversy, had made no secret of his views either officially or
privately. Whether his positions were tenable or flimsy, they had been
openly taken.

"What is more," proceeded the Ambassador, "had I thought that any account
ought to be made of what I wrote to him concerning the sovereignty of the
Provinces, I should for a certainty not have failed to advise your Grace
of it above all."

He then, after profuse and maudlin protestations of his most dutiful zeal
all the days of his life for "the service, honour, reputation, and
contentment of your princely Grace," observed that he had not thought it
necessary to give him notice of such idle and unfounded matters, as being
likely to give the Prince annoyance and displeasure. He had however
always kept within himself the resolution duly to notify him in case he
found that any belief was attached to the reports in Paris. "But the
reports," he said, "were popular and calumnious inventions of which no
man had ever been willing or able to name to him the authors."

The Ambassador's memory was treacherous, and he had doubtless neglected
to read over the minutes, if he had kept them, of his wonderful
disclosures on the subject of the sovereignty before thus exculpating
himself. It will be remembered that he had narrated the story of the plot
for conferring sovereignty upon Maurice not as a popular calumny flying
about Paris with no man to father it, but he had given it to Barneveld on
the authority of a privy councillor of France and of the King himself.
"His Majesty knows it to be authentic," he had said in his letter. That
letter was a pompous one, full of mystery and so secretly ciphered that
he had desired that his friend van der Myle, whom he was now deriding for
his efforts in Paris to save his father-inlaw from his fate, might assist
the Advocate in unravelling its contents. He had now discovered that it
had been idle gossip not worthy of a moment's attention.

The reader will remember too that Barneveld, without attaching much
importance to the tale, had distinctly pointed out to Langerac that the
Prince himself was not implicated in the plot and had instructed the
Ambassador to communicate the story to Maurice. This advice had not been
taken, but he had kept the perilous stuff upon his breast. He now sought
to lay the blame, if it were possible to do so, upon the man to whom he
had communicated it and who had not believed it.

The business of the States-General, led by the Advocate's enemies this
winter, was to accumulate all kind of tales, reports, and accusations to
his discredit on which to form something like a bill of indictment. They
had demanded all his private and confidential correspondence with Caron
and Langerae. The ambassador in Paris had been served, moreover, with a
string of nine interrogatories which he was ordered to answer on oath and
honour. This he did and appended the reply to his letter.

The nine questions had simply for their object to discover what Barneveld
had been secretly writing to the Ambassador concerning the Synod, the
enlisted troops, and the supposed projects of Maurice concerning the
sovereignty. Langerac was obliged to admit in his replies that nothing
had been written except the regular correspondence which he endorsed, and
of which the reader has been able to see the sum and substance in the
copious extracts which have been given.

He stated also that he had never received any secret instructions save
the marginal notes to the list of questions addressed by him, when about
leaving for Paris in 1614, to Barneveld. Most of these were of a trivial
and commonplace nature.

They had however a direct bearing on the process to be instituted against
the Advocate, and the letter too which we have been examining will prove
to be of much importance. Certainly pains enough were taken to detect the
least trace of treason in a very loyal correspondence. Langerac concluded
by enclosing the Barneveld correspondence since the beginning of the year
1614, protesting that not a single letter had been kept back or
destroyed. "Once more I recommend myself to mercy, if not to favour," he
added, "as the most faithful, most obedient, most zealous servant of
their High Mightinesses and your princely Grace, to whom I have devoted
and sacrificed my honour and life in most humble service; and am now and
forever the most humble, most obedient, most faithful servant of my most
serene, most illustrious, most highly born Prince, most gracious Lord and
princeliest Grace."

The former adherent of plain Advocate Barneveld could hardly find
superlatives enough to bestow upon the man whose displeasure that
prisoner had incurred.

Directly after the arrest the Stadholder had resumed his tour through the
Provinces in order to change the governments. Sliding over any opposition
which recent events had rendered idle, his course in every city was
nearly the same. A regiment or two and a train of eighty or a hundred
waggons coming through the city-gate preceded by the Prince and his
body-guard of 300, a tramp of halberdmen up the great staircase of the
town-hall, a jingle of spurs in the assembly-room, and the whole board of
magistrates were summoned into the presence of the Stadholder. They were
then informed that the world had no further need of their services, and
were allowed to bow themselves out of the presence. A new list was then
announced, prepared beforehand by Maurice on the suggestion of those on
whom he could rely. A faint resistance was here and there attempted by
magistrates and burghers who could not forget in a moment the rights of
self-government and the code of laws which had been enjoyed for
centuries. At Hoorn, for instance, there was deep indignation among the
citizens. An imprudent word or two from the authorities might have
brought about a "blood-bath."

The burgomaster ventured indeed to expostulate. They requested the Prince
not to change the magistracy. "This is against our privileges," they
said, "which it is our duty to uphold. You will see what deep displeasure
will seize the burghers, and how much disturbance and tumult will follow.
If any faults have been committed by any member of the government, let
him be accused and let him answer for them. Let your Excellency not only
dismiss but punish such as cannot properly justify themselves."

But his Excellency summoned them all to the town-house and as usual
deposed them all. A regiment was drawn up in half-moon on the square
beneath the windows. To the magistrates asking why they were deposed, he
briefly replied, "The quiet of the land requires it. It is necessary to
have unanimous resolutions in the States-General at the Hague. This
cannot be accomplished without these preliminary changes. I believe that
you had good intentions and have been faithful servants of the
Fatherland. But this time it must be so."

And so the faithful servants of the Fatherland were dismissed into space.
Otherwise how could there be unanimous voting in parliament? It must be
regarded perhaps as fortunate that the force of character, undaunted
courage, and quiet decision of Maurice enabled him to effect this violent
series of revolutions with such masterly simplicity. It is questionable
whether the Stadholder's commission technically empowered him thus to
trample on municipal law; it is certain that, if it did, the boasted
liberties of the Netherlands were a dream; but it is equally true that,
in the circumstances then existing, a vulgar, cowardly, or incompetent
personage might have marked his pathway with massacres without restoring
tranquillity.

Sometimes there was even a comic aspect to these strokes of state. The
lists of new magistrates being hurriedly furnished by the Prince's
adherents to supply the place of those evicted, it often happened that
men not quahified by property, residence, or other attributes were
appointed to the government, so that many became magistrates before they
were citizens.

On being respectfully asked sometimes who such a magistrate might be
whose face and name were equally unknown to his colleagues and to the
townsmen in general; "Do I know the fellows?" he would say with a
cheerful laugh. And indeed they might have all been dead men, those new
functionaries, for aught he did know. And so on through Medemblik and
Alkmaar, Brielle, Delft, Monnikendam, and many other cities progressed
the Prince, sowing new municipalities broadcast as he passed along. At
the Hague on his return a vote of thanks to the Prince was passed by the
nobles and most of the cities for the trouble he had taken in this
reforming process. But the unanimous vote had not yet been secured, the
strongholds of Arminianism, as it was the fashion to call them, not being
yet reduced.

The Prince, in reply to the vote of thanks, said that "in what he had
done and was going to do his intention sincerely and uprightly had been
no other than to promote the interests and tranquillity of the country,
without admixture of anything personal and without prejudice to the
general commonwealth or the laws and privileges of the cities." He
desired further that "note might be taken of this declaration as record
of his good and upright intentions."

But the sincerest and most upright intentions may be refracted by party
atmosphere from their aim, and the purest gold from the mint elude the
direct grasp through the clearest fluid in existence. At any rate it
would have been difficult to convince the host of deposed magistrates
hurled from office, although recognized as faithful servants of the
Fatherland, that such violent removal had taken place without detriment
to the laws and privileges.

And the Stadholder went to the few cities where some of the leaven still
lingered.

He arrived at Leyden on the 22nd October, "accompanied by a great suite
of colonels, ritmeesters, and captains," having sent on his body-guard to
the town strengthened by other troops. He was received by the magistrates
at the "Prince's Court" with great reverence and entertained by them in
the evening at a magnificent banquet.

Next morning he summoned the whole forty of them to the town-house,
disbanded them all, and appointed new ones in their stead; some of the
old members however who could be relied upon being admitted to the
revolutionized board.

The populace, mainly of the Stadholder's party, made themselves merry
over the discomfited "Arminians". They hung wisps of straw as derisive
wreaths of triumph over the dismantled palisade lately encircling the
town-hall, disposed of the famous "Oldenbarneveld's teeth" at auction in
the public square, and chased many a poor cock and hen, with their
feathers completely plucked from their bodies, about the street, crying
"Arme haenen, arme haenen"--Arminians or poor fowls--according to the
practical witticism much esteemed at that period. Certainly the
unfortunate Barneveldians or Arminians, or however the Remonstrants might
be designated, had been sufficiently stripped of their plumes.

The Prince, after having made proclamation from the town-house enjoining
"modesty upon the mob" and a general abstention from "perverseness and
petulance," went his way to Haarlem, where he dismissed the magistrates
and appointed new ones, and then proceeded to Rotterdam, to Gouda, and to
Amsterdam.

It seemed scarcely necessary to carry, out the process in the commercial
capital, the abode of Peter Plancius, the seat of the West India Company,
the head-quarters of all most opposed to the Advocate, most devoted to
the Stadholder. But although the majority of the city government was an
overwhelming one, there was still a respectable minority who, it was
thought possible, might under a change of circumstances effect much
mischief and even grow into a majority.

The Prince therefore summoned the board before him according to his usual
style of proceeding and dismissed them all. They submitted without a word
of remonstrance.

Ex-Burgomaster Hooft, a man of seventy-two-father of the illustrious
Pieter Corneliszoon Hooft, one of the greatest historians of the
Netherlands or of any country, then a man of thirty-seven-shocked at the
humiliating silence, asked his colleagues if they had none of them a word
to say in defence of their laws and privileges.

They answered with one accord "No."

The old man, a personal friend of Barneveld and born the same year, then
got on his feet and addressed the Stadholder. He spoke manfully and well,
characterizing the summary deposition of the magistracy as illegal and
unnecessary, recalling to the memory of those who heard him that he had
been thirty-six years long a member of the government and always a warm
friend of the House of Nassau, and respectfully submitting that the small
minority in the municipal government, while differing from their
colleagues and from the greater number of the States-General, had limited
their opposition to strictly constitutional means, never resorting to
acts of violence or to secret conspiracy.

Nothing could be more truly respectable than the appearance of this
ancient magistrate, in long black robe with fur edgings, high ruff around
his thin, pointed face, and decent skull-cap covering his bald old head,
quavering forth to unsympathetic ears a temperate and unanswerable
defence of things which in all ages the noblest minds have deemed most
valuable.

His harangue was not very long. Maurice's reply was very short.

"Grandpapa," he said, "it must be so this time. Necessity and the service
of the country require it."

With that he dismissed the thirty-six magistrates and next day appointed
a new board, who were duly sworn to fidelity to the States-General. Of
course a large proportion of the old members were renominated.

Scarcely had the echo of the Prince's footsteps ceased to resound through
the country as he tramped from one city to another, moulding each to his
will, when the States of Holland, now thoroughly reorganized, passed a
solemn vote of thanks to him for all that he had done. The six cities of
the minority had now become the majority, and there was unanimity at the
Hague. The Seven Provinces, States-General and States-Provincial, were as
one, and the Synod was secured. Whether the prize was worth the
sacrifices which it had cost and was still to cost might at least be
considered doubtful.

     ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

     Affection of his friends and the wrath of his enemies
     Depths theological party spirit could descend
     Extraordinary capacity for yielding to gentle violence
     Human nature in its meanness and shame
     It had not yet occurred to him that he was married
     Make the very name of man a term of reproach
     Never lack of fishers in troubled waters
     Opposed the subjection of the magistracy by the priesthood
     Pot-valiant hero
     Resolve to maintain the civil authority over the military
     Tempest of passion and prejudice
     The effect of energetic, uncompromising calumny
     Yes, there are wicked men about




THE LIFE AND DEATH of JOHN OF BARNEVELD, ADVOCATE OF HOLLAND

WITH A VIEW OF THE PRIMARY CAUSES AND MOVEMENTS OF THE THIRTY YEARS' WAR

By John Lothrop Motley, D.C.L., LL.D.

Life and Death of John of Barneveld, v10, 1618-19




CHAPTER XIX.

   Rancour between the Politico-Religious Parties--Spanish Intrigues
   Inconsistency of James--Brewster and Robinson's Congregation at
   Leyden--They decide to leave for America--Robinson's Farewell Sermon
   and Prayer at Parting.

During this dark and mournful winter the internal dissensions and, as a
matter of course, the foreign intrigues had become more dangerous than
ever. While the man who for a whole generation had guided the policy of
the Republic and had been its virtual chief magistrate lay hidden from
all men's sight, the troubles which he had sought to avert were not
diminished by his removal from the scene. The extreme or Gomarist party
which had taken a pride in secret conventicles where they were in a
minority, determined, as they said, to separate Christ from Belial and,
meditating the triumph which they had at last secured, now drove the
Arminians from the great churches. Very soon it was impossible for these
heretics to enjoy the rights of public worship anywhere. But they were
not dismayed. The canons of Dordtrecht had not yet been fulminated. They
avowed themselves ready to sacrifice worldly goods and life itself in
defence of the Five Points. In Rotterdam, notwithstanding a garrison of
fifteen companies, more than a thousand Remonstrants assembled on
Christmas-day in the Exchange for want of a more appropriate place of
meeting and sang the 112th Psalm in mighty chorus. A clergyman of their
persuasion accidentally passing through the street was forcibly laid
hands upon and obliged to preach to them, which he did with great
unction. The magistracy, where now the Contra-Remonstrants had the
control, forbade, under severe penalties, a repetition of such scenes. It
was impossible not to be reminded of the days half a century before, when
the early Reformers had met in the open fields or among the dunes, armed
to the teeth, and with outlying pickets to warn the congregation of the
approach of Red Rod and the functionaries of the Holy Inquisition.

In Schoonhoven the authorities attempted one Sunday by main force to
induct a Contra-Remonstrant into the pulpit from which a Remonstrant had
just been expelled. The women of the place turned out with their distaffs
and beat them from the field. The garrison was called out, and there was
a pitched battle in the streets between soldiers, police officers, and
women, not much to the edification certainly of the Sabbath-loving
community on either side, the victory remaining with the ladies.

In short it would be impossible to exaggerate the rancour felt between
the different politico-religious parties. All heed for the great war now
raging in the outside world between the hostile elements of Catholicism
and Protestantism, embattled over an enormous space, was lost in the din
of conflict among the respective supporters of conditional and
unconditional damnation within the pale of the Reformed Church. The
earthquake shaking Europe rolled unheeded, as it was of old said to have
done at Cannae, amid the fierce shock of mortal foes in that narrow
field.

The respect for authority which had so long been the distinguishing
characteristic of the Netherlanders seemed to have disappeared. It was
difficult--now that the time-honoured laws and privileges in defence of
which, and of liberty of worship included in them, the Provinces had made
war forty years long had been trampled upon by military force--for those
not warmed by the fire of Gomarus to feel their ancient respect for the
magistracy. The magistracy at that moment seemed to mean the sword.

The Spanish government was inevitably encouraged by the spectacle thus
presented. We have seen the strong hopes entertained by the council at
Madrid, two years before the crisis now existing had occurred. We have
witnessed the eagerness with which the King indulged the dream of
recovering the sovereignty which his father had lost, and the vast
schemes which he nourished towards that purpose, founded on the internal
divisions which were reducing the Republic to impotence. Subsequent
events had naturally made him more sanguine than ever. There was now a
web of intrigue stretching through the Provinces to bring them all back
under the sceptre of Spain. The imprisonment of the great stipendiary,
the great conspirator, the man who had sold himself and was on the point
of selling his country, had not terminated those plots. Where was the
supposed centre of that intrigue? In the council of state of the
Netherlands, ever fiercely opposed to Barneveld and stuffed full of his
mortal enemies. Whose name was most familiar on the lips of the Spanish
partisans engaged in these secret schemes? That of Adrian Manmaker,
President of the Council, representative of Prince Maurice as first noble
of Zealand in the States-General, chairman of the committee sent by that
body to Utrecht to frustrate the designs of the Advocate, and one of the
twenty-four commissioners soon to be appointed to sit in judgment upon
him.

The tale seems too monstrous for belief, nor is it to be admitted with
certainty, that Manmaker and the other councillors implicated had
actually given their adhesion to the plot, because the Spanish emissaries
in their correspondence with the King assured him of the fact. But if
such a foundation for suspicion could have been found against Barneveld
and his friends, the world would not have heard the last of it from that
hour to this.

It is superfluous to say that the Prince was entirely foreign to these
plans. He had never been mentioned as privy to the little arrangements of
Councillor du Agean and others, although he was to benefit by them. In
the Spanish schemes he seems to have been considered as an impediment,
although indirectly they might tend to advance him.

"We have managed now, I hope, that his Majesty will be recognized as
sovereign of the country," wrote the confidential agent of the King of
Spain in the Netherlands, Emmanuel Sueyro, to the government of Madrid.
"The English will oppose it with all their strength. But they can do
nothing except by making Count Maurice sovereign of Holland and duke of
Julich and Cleve. Maurice will also contrive to make himself master of
Wesel, so it is necessary for the Archduke to be beforehand with him and
make sure of the place. It is also needful that his Majesty should induce
the French government to talk with the Netherlanders and convince them
that it is time to prolong the Truce."

This was soon afterwards accomplished. The French minister at Brussels
informed Archduke Albert that du Maurier had been instructed to propose
the prolongation, and that he had been conferring with the Prince of
Orange and the States-General on the subject. At first the Prince had
expressed disinclination, but at the last interview both he and the
States had shown a desire for it, and the French King had requested from
the Archduke a declaration whether the Spanish government would be
willing to treat for it. In such case Lewis would offer himself as
mediator and do his best to bring about a successful result.

But it was not the intention of the conspirators in the Netherlands that
the Truce should be prolonged. On the contrary the negotiation for it was
merely to furnish the occasion for fully developing their plot. "The
States and especially those of Zealand will reply that they no longer
wish the Truce," continued Sueyro, "and that they would prefer war to
such a truce. They desire to put ships on the coast of Flanders, to which
the Hollanders are opposed because it would be disagreeable to the
French. So the Zealanders will be the first to say that the Netherlanders
must come back to his Majesty. This their President Hanmaker has sworn.
The States of Overyssel will likewise give their hand to this because
they say they will be the first to feel the shock of the war. Thus we
shall very easily carry out our design, and as we shall concede to the
Zealanders their demands in regard to the navigation they at least will
place themselves under the dominion of his Majesty as will be the case
with Friesland as well as Overyssel."

It will be observed that in this secret arrangement for selling the
Republic to its ancient master it was precisely the Provinces and the
politicians most steadily opposed to Barneveld that took the lead.
Zealand, Friesland, Overyssel were in the plot, but not a word was said
of Utrecht. As for Holland itself, hopes were founded on the places where
hatred to the Advocate was fiercest.

"Between ourselves," continued the agent, "we are ten here in the
government of Holland to support the plan, but we must not discover
ourselves for fear of suffering what has happened to Barneveld."

He added that the time for action had not yet come, and that if movements
were made before the Synod had finished its labours, "The Gomarists would
say that they were all sold." He implored the government at Madrid to
keep the whole matter for the present profoundly secret because "Prince
Maurice and the Gomarists had the forces of the country at their
disposition." In case the plot was sprung too suddenly therefore, he
feared that with the assistance of England Maurice might, at the head of
the Gomarists and the army, make himself sovereign of Holland and Duke of
Cleve, while he and the rest of the Spanish partisans might be in prison
with Barneveld for trying to accomplish what Barneveld had been trying to
prevent.

The opinions and utterances of such a man as James I. would be of little
worth to our history had he not happened to occupy the place he did. But
he was a leading actor in the mournful drama which filled up the whole
period of the Twelve Years' Truce. His words had a direct influence on
great events. He was a man of unquestionable erudition, of powers of mind
above the average, while the absolute deformity of his moral constitution
made him incapable of thinking, feeling, or acting rightly on any vital
subject, by any accident or on any occasion. If there were one thing that
he thoroughly hated in the world, it was the Reformed religion. If in his
thought there were one term of reproach more loathsome than another to be
applied to a human creature, it was the word Puritan. In the word was
subversion of all established authority in Church and State--revolution,
republicanism, anarchy. "There are degrees in Heaven," he was wont to
say, "there are degrees in Hell, there must be degrees on earth."

He forbade the Calvinist Churches of Scotland to hold their customary
Synod in 1610, passionately reviling them and their belief, and declaring
"their aim to be nothing else than to deprive kings and princes of their
sovereignty, and to reduce the whole world to a popular form of
government where everybody would be master."

When the Prince of Neuburg embraced Catholicism, thus complicating
matters in the duchies and strengthening the hand of Spain and the
Emperor in the debateable land, he seized the occasion to assure the
agent of the Archduke in London, Councillor Boissetot, of his warm
Catholic sympathies. "They say that I am the greatest heretic in the
world!" he exclaimed; "but I will never deny that the true religion is
that of Rome even if corrupted." He expressed his belief in the real
presence, and his surprise that the Roman Catholics did not take the
chalice for the blood of Christ. The English bishops, he averred, drew
their consecration through the bishops in Mary Tudor's time from the
Pope.

As Philip II., and Ferdinand II. echoing the sentiments of his
illustrious uncle, had both sworn they would rather reign in a wilderness
than tolerate a single heretic in their dominions, so James had said "he
would rather be a hermit in a forest than a king over such people as the
pack of Puritans were who overruled the lower house."

For the Netherlanders he had an especial hatred, both as rebels and
Puritans. Soon after coming to the English throne he declared that their
revolt, which had been going on all his lifetime and of which he never
expected to see the end, had begun by petition for matters of religion.
"His mother and he from their cradles," he said, "had been haunted with a
Puritan devil, which he feared would not leave him to his grave. And he
would hazard his crown but he would suppress those malicious spirits." It
seemed a strange caprice of Destiny that assigned to this hater of
Netherlanders, of Puritans, and of the Reformed religion, the decision of
disputed points between Puritans and anti-Puritans in the Reformed Church
of the Netherlands.

It seemed stranger that his opinions should be hotly on the side of the
Puritans.

Barneveld, who often used the expression in later years, as we have seen
in his correspondence, was opposed to the Dutch Puritans because they had
more than once attempted subversion of the government on pretext of
religion, especially at the memorable epoch of Leicester's government.

The business of stirring up these religious conspiracies against the
magistracy he was apt to call "Flanderizing," in allusion to those
disastrous days and to the origin of the ringleaders in those tumults.
But his main object, as we have seen, was to effect compromises and
restore good feeling between members of the one church, reserving the
right of disposing over religious matters to the government of the
respective provinces.

But James had remedied his audacious inconsistency by discovering that
Puritanism in England and in the Netherlands resembled each other no more
than certain letters transposed into totally different words meant one
and the same thing. The anagrammatic argument had been neatly put by Sir
Dudley Carleton, convincing no man. Puritanism in England "denied the
right of human invention or imposition in religious matters." Puritanism
in the Netherlands denied the right of the legal government to impose its
authority in religious matters. This was the great matter of debate in
the Provinces. In England the argument had been settled very summarily
against the Puritans by sheriffs' officers, bishops' pursuivants, and
county jails.

As the political tendencies, so too the religious creed and observances
of the English Puritans were identical with that of the
Contra-Remonstrants, whom King James had helped to their great triumph.
This was not very difficult to prove. It so happened that there were some
English Puritans living at that moment in Leyden. They formed an
independent society by themselves, which they called a Congregational
Church, and in which were some three hundred communicants. The length of
their residence there was almost exactly coeval with the Twelve Years'
Truce. They knew before leaving England that many relics of the Roman
ceremonial, with which they were dissatisfied, and for the discontinuance
of which they had in vain petitioned the crown--the ring, the sign of the
cross, white surplices, and the like--besides the whole hierarchical
system, had been disused in the Reformed Churches of France, Switzerland,
and the United Provinces, where the forms of worship in their view had
been brought more nearly to the early apostolic model. They admitted for
truth the doctrinal articles of the Dutch Reformed Churches. They had not
come to the Netherlands without cause. At an early period of King James's
reign this congregation of seceders from the establishment had been wont
to hold meetings at Scrooby in Nottinghamshire, once a manor of the
Archbishop of York, but then the residence of one William Brewster. This
was a gentleman of some fortune, educated at Cambridge, a good scholar,
who in Queen Elizabeth's time had been in the service of William Davison
when Secretary of State. He seemed to have been a confidential private
secretary of that excellent and unlucky statesman, who found him so
discreet and faithful as to deserve employment before all others in
matters of trust and secrecy. He was esteemed by Davison "rather as a son
than a servant," and he repaid his confidence by doing him many faithful
offices in the time of his troubles. He had however long since retired
from connection with public affairs, living a retired life, devoted to
study, meditation, and practical exertion to promote the cause of
religion, and in acts of benevolence sometimes beyond his means.

The pastor of the Scrooby Church, one John Robinson, a graduate of
Cambridge, who had been a benefited clergyman in Norfolk, was a man of
learning, eloquence, and lofty intellect. But what were such good gifts
in the possession of rebels, seceders, and Puritans? It is needless to
say that Brewster and Robinson were baited, persecuted, watched day and
night, some of the congregation often clapped into prison, others into
the stocks, deprived of the means of livelihood, outlawed, famished,
banned. Plainly their country was no place for them. After a few years of
such work they resolved to establish themselves in Holland, where at
least they hoped to find refuge and toleration.

But it proved as difficult for them to quit the country as to remain in
it. Watched and hunted like gangs of coiners, forgers, or other felons
attempting to flee from justice, set upon by troopers armed with "bills
and guns and other weapons," seized when about to embark, pillaged and
stripped by catchpoles, exhibited as a show to grinning country folk, the
women and children dealt with like drunken tramps, led before
magistrates, committed to jail; Mr. Brewster and six other of the
principal ones being kept in prison and bound over to the assizes; they
were only able after attempts lasting through two years' time to effect
their escape to Amsterdam. After remaining there a year they had removed
to Leyden, which they thought "a fair and beautiful city, and of a sweet
situation."

They settled in Leyden in the very year in which Arminius was buried
beneath the pavement of St. Peter's Church in that town. It was the year
too in which the Truce was signed. They were a singularly tranquil and
brotherly community. Their pastor, who was endowed with remarkable
gentleness and tact in dealing with his congregation, settled amicably
all their occasional disputes. The authorities of the place held them up
as a model. To a Walloon congregation in which there were many
troublesome and litigious members they said: "These English have lived
among us ten years, and yet we never had any suit or accusation against
any of them, but your quarrels are continual."

Although many of them were poor, finding it difficult to earn their
living in a foreign land among people speaking a strange tongue, and with
manners and habits differing from their own, and where they were obliged
to learn new trades, having most of them come out of an agricultural
population, yet they enjoyed a singular reputation for probity. Bakers
and butchers and the like willingly gave credit to the poorest of these
English, and sought their custom if known to be of the congregation. Mr.
Brewster, who had been reduced almost to poverty by his charities and
munificent aid to his struggling brethren, earned his living by giving
lessons in English, having first composed a grammar according to the
Latin model for the use of his pupils. He also set up a printing
establishment, publishing many controversial works prohibited in England,
a proceeding which roused the wrath of Carleton, impelling him to do his
best to have him thrown into prison.

It was not the first time that this plain, mechanical, devout Englishman,
now past middle age, had visited the Netherlands. More than twenty-five
years before he had accompanied William Davison on his famous embassy to
the States, as private secretary.

When the keys of Flushing, one of the cautionary towns, were committed to
the Ambassador, he confided them to the care of Brewster, who slept with
them under his pillow. The gold chain which Davison received as a present
from the provincial government on leaving the country was likewise placed
in his keeping, with orders to wear it around his neck until they should
appear before the Queen. To a youth of ease and affluence, familiar with
ambassadors and statesmen and not unknown at courts, had succeeded a
mature age of obscurity, deep study, and poverty. No human creature would
have heard of him had his career ended with his official life. Two
centuries and a half have passed away and the name of the outlawed
Puritan of Scrooby and Leyden is still familiar to millions of the
English race.

All these Englishmen were not poor. Many of them occupied houses of fair
value, and were admitted to the freedom of the city. The pastor with
three of his congregation lived in a comfortable mansion, which they had
purchased for the considerable sum of 8000 florins, and on the garden of
which they subsequently erected twenty-one lesser tenements for the use
of the poorer brethren.

Mr. Robinson was himself chosen a member of the famous university and
admitted to its privileges. During his long residence in Leyden, besides
the daily care of his congregation, spiritual and temporal, he wrote many
learned works.

Thus the little community, which grew gradually larger by emigration from
England, passed many years of tranquillity. Their footsteps were not
dogged by constables and pursuivants, they were not dragged daily before
the magistrates, they were not thrown into the town jails, they were not
hunted from place to place with bows and bills and mounted musketeers.
They gave offence to none, and were respected by all. "Such was their
singleheartedness and sincere affection one towards another," says their
historian and magistrate, "that they came as near the primitive pattern
of the first churches as any other church of these later times has done,
according to their rank and quality."

Here certainly were English Puritans more competent than any men else in
the world to judge if it were a slander upon the English government to
identify them with Dutch Puritans. Did they sympathize with the party in
Holland which the King, who had so scourged and trampled upon themselves
in England, was so anxious to crush, the hated Arminians? Did they abhor
the Contra-Remonstrants whom James and his ambassador Carleton doted upon
and whom Barneveld called "Double Puritans" and "Flanderizers?"

Their pastor may answer for himself and his brethren.

"We profess before God and men," said Robinson in his Apologia, "that we
agree so entirely with the Reformed Dutch Churches in the matter of
religion as to be ready to subscribe to all and each of their articles
exactly as they are set forth in the Netherland Confession. We
acknowledge those Reformed Churches as true and genuine, we profess and
cultivate communion with them as much as in us lies. Those of us who
understand the Dutch language attend public worship under their pastors.
We administer the Holy Supper to such of their members as, known to us,
appear at our meetings." This was the position of the Puritans. Absolute,
unqualified accordance with the Contra-Remonstrants.

As the controversy grew hot in the university between the Arminians and
their adversaries, Mr. Robinson, in the language of his friend Bradford,
became "terrible to the Arminians . . . . who so greatly molested the
whole state and that city in particular."

When Episcopius, the Arminian professor of theology, set forth sundry
theses, challenging all the world to the onset, it was thought that "none
was fitter to buckle with them" than Robinson. The orthodox professor
Polyander so importuned the English Puritan to enter the lists on behalf
of the Contra-Remonstrants that at last he consented and overthrew the
challenger, horse and man, in three successive encounters. Such at least
was the account given by his friend and admirer the historian. "The Lord
did so help him to defend the truth and foil this adversary as he put him
to an apparent nonplus in this great and public audience. And the like he
did a second or third time upon such like occasions," said Bradford,
adding that, if it had not been for fear of offending the English
government, the university would have bestowed preferments and honours
upon the champion.

We are concerned with this ancient and exhausted controversy only for the
intense light it threw, when burning, on the history which occupies us.

Of the extinct volcano itself which once caused such devastation, and in
which a great commonwealth was well-nigh swallowed up, little is left but
slag and cinders. The past was made black and barren with them. Let us
disturb them as little as possible.

The little English congregation remained at Leyden till toward the end of
the Truce, thriving, orderly, respected, happy. They were witnesses to
the tumultuous, disastrous, and tragical events which darkened the
Republic in those later years, themselves unobserved and unmolested. Not
a syllable seems to remain on record of the views or emotions which may
have been excited by those scenes in their minds, nor is there a trace
left on the national records of the Netherlands of their protracted
residence on the soil.

They got their living as best they might by weaving, printing, spinning,
and other humble trades; they borrowed money on mortgages, they built
houses, they made wills, and such births, deaths, and marriages as
occurred among them were registered by the town-clerk.

And at last for a variety of reasons they resolved to leave the
Netherlands. Perhaps the solution of the problem between Church and State
in that country by the temporary subjection of State to Church may have
encouraged them to realize a more complete theocracy, if a sphere of
action could be found where the experiment might be tried without a
severe battle against time-hallowed institutions and vested rights.
Perhaps they were appalled by the excesses into which men of their own
religious sentiments had been carried by theological and political
passion. At any rate depart they would; the larger half of the
congregation remaining behind however till the pioneers should have
broken the way, and in their own language "laid the stepping-stones."

They had thought of the lands beneath the Equator, Raleigh having
recently excited enthusiasm by his poetical descriptions of Guiana. But
the tropical scheme was soon abandoned. They had opened negotiations with
the Stadholder and the States-General through Amsterdam merchants in
regard to settling in New Amsterdam, and offered to colonize that country
if assured of the protection of the United Provinces. Their petition had
been rejected. They had then turned their faces to their old master and
their own country, applying to the Virginia Company for a land-patent,
which they were only too happy to promise, and to the King for liberty of
religion in the wilderness confirmed under his broad seal, which his
Majesty of course refused. It was hinted however that James would connive
at them and not molest them if they carried themselves peaceably. So they
resolved to go without the seal, for, said their magistrate very wisely,
"if there should be a purpose or desire to wrong them, a seal would not
serve their turn though it were as broad as the house-floor."

Before they left Leyden, their pastor preached to them a farewell sermon,
which for loftiness of spirit and breadth of vision has hardly a parallel
in that age of intolerance. He laid down the principle that criticism of
the Scriptures had not been exhausted merely because it had been begun;
that the human conscience was of too subtle a nature to be imprisoned for
ever in formulas however ingeniously devised; that the religious
reformation begun a century ago was not completed; and that the Creator
had not necessarily concluded all His revelations to mankind.

The words have long been familiar to students of history, but they can
hardly be too often laid to heart.

Noble words, worthy to have been inscribed over the altar of the first
church to be erected by the departing brethren, words to bear fruit after
centuries should go by. Had not the deeply injured and misunderstood
Grotius already said, "If the trees we plant do not shade us, they will
yet serve for our descendants?"

Yet it is passing strange that the preacher of that sermon should be the
recent champion of the Contra-Remonstrants in the great controversy; the
man who had made himself so terrible to the pupils of the gentle and
tolerant Arminius.

And thus half of that English congregation went down to Delftshaven,
attended by the other half who were to follow at a later period with
their beloved pastor. There was a pathetic leave-taking. Even many of the
Hollanders, mere casual spectators, were in tears.

Robinson, kneeling on the deck of the little vessel, offered a prayer and
a farewell. Who could dream that this departure of an almost nameless
band of emigrants to the wilderness was an epoch in the world's history?
Yet these were the Pilgrim Fathers of New England, the founders of what
was to be the mightiest republic of modern history, mighty and stable
because it had been founded upon an idea.

They were not in search of material comfort and the chances of elevating
their condition, by removing from an overpeopled country to an organized
Commonwealth, offering a wide field for pauper labourers. Some of them
were of good social rank and highest education, most of them in decent
circumstances, none of them in absolute poverty. And a few years later
they were to be joined by a far larger company with leaders and many
brethren of ancient birth and landed possessions, men of "education,
figure; and estate," all ready to convert property into cash and to place
it in joint-stock, not as the basis of promising speculation, but as the
foundation of a church.

It signifies not how much or how little one may sympathize with their
dogma or their discipline now. To the fact that the early settlement of
that wilderness was by self-sacrificing men of earnestness and faith, who
were bent on "advancing the Gospel of Christ in remote parts of the
world," in the midst of savage beasts, more savage men, and unimaginable
difficulties and dangers, there can be little doubt that the highest
forms of Western civilization are due. Through their provisional
theocracy, the result of the independent church system was to establish
the true purport of the Reformation, absolute religious equality. Civil
and political equality followed as a matter of course.

Two centuries and a half have passed away.

There are now some seventy or eighty millions of the English-speaking
race on both sides the Atlantic, almost equally divided between the
United Kingdom and the United Republic, and the departure of those
outcasts of James has interest and significance for them all.

Most fitly then, as a distinguished American statesman has remarked, does
that scene on board the little English vessel, with the English pastor
uttering his farewell blessing to a handful of English exiles for
conscience sake; depicted on canvas by eminent artists, now adorn the
halls of the American Congress and of the British Parliament. Sympathy
with one of the many imperishable bonds of union between the two great
and scarcely divided peoples.

We return to Barneveld in his solitary prison.




CHAPTER XX.

   Barneveld's Imprisonment--Ledenberg's Examination and Death--
   Remonstrance of De Boississe--Aerssens admitted to the order of
   Knights--Trial of the Advocate--Barneveld's Defence--The States
   proclaim a Public Fast--Du Maurier's Speech before the Assembly--
   Barneveld's Sentence--Barneveld prepares for Death--Goes to
   Execution.

The Advocate had been removed within a few days after the arrest from the
chamber in Maurice's apartments, where he had originally been confined,
and was now in another building.

It was not a dungeon nor a jail. Indeed the commonplace and domestic
character of the scenery in which these great events were transacted has
in it something pathetic. There was and still remains a two-storied
structure, then of modern date, immediately behind the antique hall of
the old Counts within the Binnenhof. On the first floor was a courtroom
of considerable extent, the seat of one of the chief tribunals of justice
The story above was divided into three chambers with a narrow corridor on
each side. The first chamber, on the north-eastern side, was appropriated
for the judges when the state prisoners should be tried. In the next Hugo
Grotius was imprisoned. In the third was Barneveld. There was a tower at
the north-east angle of the building, within which a winding and narrow
staircase of stone led up to the corridor and so to the prisoners'
apartments. Rombout Hoogerbeets was confined in another building.

As the Advocate, bent with age and a life of hard work, and leaning on
his staff, entered the room appropriated to him, after toiling up the
steep staircase, he observed--

"This is the Admiral of Arragon's apartment."

It was true. Eighteen years before, the conqueror of Nieuwpoort had
assigned this lodging to the chief prisoner of war in that memorable
victory over the Spaniards, and now Maurice's faithful and trusted
counsellor at that epoch was placed in durance here, as the result of the
less glorious series of victories which had just been achieved.

It was a room of moderate dimensions, some twenty-five feet square, with
a high vaulted roof and decently furnished. Below and around him in the
courtyard were the scenes of the Advocate's life-long and triumphant
public services. There in the opposite building were the windows of the
beautiful "Hall of Truce," with its sumptuous carvings and gildings, its
sculptures and portraits, where he had negotiated with the
representatives of all the great powers of Christendom the famous Treaty
which had suspended the war of forty years, and where he was wont almost
daily to give audience to the envoys of the greatest sovereigns or the
least significant states of Europe and Asia, all of whom had been ever
solicitous of his approbation and support.

Farther along in the same building was the assembly room of the
States-General, where some of the most important affairs of the Republic
and of Europe had for years been conducted, and where he had been so
indispensable that, in the words of a contemporary who loved him not,
"absolutely nothing could be transacted in his absence, all great affairs
going through him alone."

There were two dull windows, closely barred, looking northward over an
irregular assemblage of tile-roofed houses and chimney-stacks, while
within a stone's throw to the west, but unseen, was his own elegant
mansion on the Voorhout, surrounded by flower gardens and shady pleasure
grounds, where now sat his aged wife and her children all plunged in deep
affliction.

He was allowed the attendance of a faithful servant, Jan Franken by name,
and a sentinel stood constantly before his door. His papers had been
taken from him, and at first he was deprived of writing materials.

He had small connection with the outward world. The news of the municipal
revolution which had been effected by the Stadholder had not penetrated
to his solitude, but his wife was allowed to send him fruit from their
garden. One day a basket of fine saffron pears was brought to him. On
slicing one with a knife he found a portion of a quill inside it. Within
the quill was a letter on thinnest paper, in minutest handwriting in
Latin. It was to this effect.

"Don't rely upon the States of Holland, for the Prince of Orange has
changed the magistracies in many cities. Dudley Carleton is not your
friend."

A sergeant of the guard however, before bringing in these pears, had put
a couple of them in his pocket to take home to his wife. The letter,
copies of which perhaps had been inserted for safety in several of them,
was thus discovered and the use of this ingenious device prevented for
the future.

Secretary Ledenberg, who had been brought to the Hague in the early days
of September, was the first of the prisoners subjected to examination. He
was much depressed at the beginning of it, and is said to have exclaimed
with many sighs, "Oh Barneveld, Barneveld, what have you brought us to!"

He confessed that the Waartgelders at Utrecht had been enlisted on
notification by the Utrecht deputies in the Hague with knowledge of
Barneveld, and in consequence of a resolution of the States in order to
prevent internal tumults. He said that the Advocate had advised in the
previous month of March a request to the Prince not to come to Utrecht;
that the communication of the message, in regard to disbanding the
Waartgelders, to his Excellency had been postponed after the deputies of
the States of Holland had proposed a delay in that disbandment; that
those deputies had come to Utrecht of their own accord; . . . . that they
had judged it possible to keep everything in proper order in Utrecht if
the garrison in the city paid by Holland were kept quiet, and if the
States of Utrecht gave similar orders to the Waartgelders; for they did
not believe that his Excellency would bring in troops from the outside.
He said that he knew nothing of a new oath to be demanded of the
garrison. He stated that the Advocate, when at Utrecht, had exhorted the
States, according to his wont, to maintain their liberties and
privileges, representing to them that the right to decide on the Synod
and the Waartgelders belonged to them. Lastly, he denied knowing who was
the author of The Balance, except by common report.

Now these statements hardly amounted to a confession of abominable and
unpardonable crimes by Ledenberg, nor did they establish a charge of
high-treason and corrupt correspondence with the enemy against Barneveld.
It is certain that the extent of the revelations seemed far from
satisfactory to the accusers, and that some pressure would be necessary
in order to extract anything more conclusive. Lieutenant Nythof told
Grotius that Ledenberg had accordingly been threatened with torture, and
that the executioner had even handled him for that purpose. This was
however denied by the judges of instruction who had been charged with the
preliminary examination.

That examination took place on the 27th September. After it had been
concluded, Ledenberg prayed long and earnestly on returning to prison. He
then entrusted a paper written in French to his son Joost, a boy of
eighteen, who did not understand that language. The youth had been
allowed to keep his father company in his confinement, and slept in the
same room.

The next night but one, at two o'clock, Joost heard his father utter a
deep groan. He was startled, groped in the darkness towards his bed and
felt his arm, which was stone cold. He spoke to him and received no
answer. He gave the alarm, the watch came in with lights, and it was
found that Ledenberg had given himself two mortal wounds in the abdomen
with a penknife and then cut his throat with a table-knife which he had
secreted, some days before, among some papers.

The paper in French given to his son was found to be to this effect.

"I know that there is an inclination to set an example in my person, to
confront me with my best friends, to torture me, afterwards to convict me
of contradictions and falsehoods as they say, and then to found an
ignominious sentence upon points and trifles, for this it will be
necessary to do in order to justify the arrest and imprisonment. To
escape all this I am going to God by the shortest road. Against a dead
man there can be pronounced no sentence of confiscation of property. Done
17th September (o. s.) 1618."

The family of the unhappy gentleman begged his body for decent burial.
The request was refused. It was determined to keep the dead secretary
above ground and in custody until he could be tried, and, if possible,
convicted and punished. It was to be seen whether it were so easy to
baffle the power of the States-General, the Synod, and the Stadholder,
and whether "going to God by the shortest road" was to save a culprit's
carcass from ignominy, and his property from confiscation.

The French ambassadors, who had been unwearied in their endeavour to
restore harmony to the distracted Commonwealth before the arrest of the
prisoners, now exerted themselves to throw the shield of their
sovereign's friendship around the illustrious statesman and his
fellow-sufferers.

"It is with deepest sorrow," said de Boississe, "that I have witnessed
the late hateful commotions. Especially from my heart I grieve for the
arrest of the Seignior Barneveld, who with his discretion and wise
administration for the past thirty years has so drawn the hearts of all
neighbouring princes to himself, especially that of the King my master,
that on taking up my pen to apprize him of these events I am gravely
embarrassed, fearing to infringe on the great respect due to your
Mightinesses or against the honour and merits of the Seignior Barneveld.
. . . My Lords, take heed to your situation, for a great discontent is
smouldering among your citizens. Until now, the Union has been the chief
source of your strength. And I now fear that the King my master, the
adviser of your renowned Commonwealth, maybe offended that you have taken
this resolution after consulting with others, and without communicating
your intention to his ambassador . . . . It is but a few days that an
open edict was issued testifying to the fidelity of Barneveld, and can it
be possible that within so short a time you have discovered that you have
been deceived? I summon you once more in the name of the King to lay
aside all passion, to judge these affairs without partiality, and to
inform me what I am to say to the King. Such very conflicting accounts
are given of these transactions that I must beg you to confide to me the
secret of the affair. The wisest in the land speak so strongly of these
proceedings that it will be no wonder if the King my master should give
me orders to take the Seignior Barneveld under his protection. Should
this prove to be the case, your Lordships will excuse my course . . . I
beg you earnestly in your wisdom not to give cause of offence to
neighbouring princes, especially to my sovereign, who wishes from his
heart to maintain your dignity and interests and to assure you of his
friendship."

The language was vigorous and sincere, but the Ambassador forgot that the
France of to-day was not the France of yesterday; that Louis XIII. was
not Henry IV.; that it was but a cheerful fiction to call the present
King the guide and counsellor of the Republic, and that, distraught as
she was by the present commotions, her condition was strength and
tranquillity compared with the apparently decomposing and helpless state
of the once great kingdom of France. De Boississe took little by his
demonstration.

On the 12th December both de Boississe and du Maurier came before the
States-General once more, and urged a speedy and impartial trial for the
illustrious prisoners. If they had committed acts of treason and
rebellion, they deserved exemplary punishment, but the ambassadors warned
the States-General with great earnestness against the dangerous doctrine
of constructive treason, and of confounding acts dictated by violence of
party spirit at an excited period with the crime of high-treason against
the sovereignty of the State.

"Barneveld so honourable," they said, "for his immense and long continued
services has both this Republic and all princes and commonwealths for his
witnesses. It is most difficult to believe that he has attempted the
destruction of his fatherland, for which you know that he has toiled so
faithfully."

They admitted that so grave charges ought now to be investigated. "To
this end," said the ambassadors, "you ought to give him judges who are
neither suspected nor impassioned, and who will decide according to the
laws of the land, and on clear and undeniable evidence . . . . So doing
you will show to the whole world that you are worthy to possess and to
administer this Commonwealth to whose government God has called you."

Should they pursue another and a sterner course, the envoys warned the
Assembly that the King would be deeply offended, deeming it thus proved
how little value they set upon his advice and his friendship.

The States-General replied on the 19th December, assuring the ambassadors
that the delay in the trial was in order to make the evidence of the
great conspiracy complete, and would not tend to the prejudice of the
prisoners "if they had a good consciousness of their innocence." They
promised that the sentence upon them when pronounced would give entire
satisfaction to all their allies and to the King of France in particular,
of whom they spoke throughout the document in terms of profound respect.
But they expressed their confidence that "his Majesty would not place the
importunate and unfounded solicitations of a few particular criminals or
their supporters before the general interests of the dignity and security
of the Republic."

On the same day the States-General addressed a letter filled with very
elaborate and courteous commonplaces to the King, in which they expressed
a certainty that his Majesty would be entirely satisfied with their
actions.

The official answer of the States-General to the ambassadors, just cited,
gave but little comfort to the friends of the imprisoned statesman and
his companions. Such expressions as "ambitious and factious
spirits,"--"authors and patrons of the faction,"--"attempts at novelty
through changes in religion, in justice and in the fundamental laws of
all orders of polity," and the frequent mention of the word "conspiracy"
boded little good.

Information of this condition of affairs was conveyed to Hoogerbeets and
Grotius by means of an ingenious device of the distinguished scholar, who
was then editing the Latin works of the Hague poet, Janus Secundus.

While the sheets were going through the press, some of the verses were
left out, and their place supplied by others conveying the intelligence
which it was desired to send to the prisoners. The pages which contained
the secret were stitched together in such wise that in cutting the book
open they were not touched but remained closed. The verses were to this
effect. "The examination of the Advocate proceeds slowly, but there is
good hope from the serious indignation of the French king, whose envoys
are devoted to the cause of the prisoners, and have been informed that
justice will be soon rendered. The States of Holland are to assemble on
the 15th January, at which a decision will certainly be taken for
appointing judges. The preachers here at Leyden are despised, and men are
speaking strongly of war. The tumult which lately occurred at Rotterdam
may bring forth some good."

The quick-wited Grotius instantly discovered the device, read the
intelligence thus communicated in the proofsheets of Secundus, and made
use of the system to obtain further intelligence.

Hoogerbeets laid the book aside, not taking much interest at that time in
the works of the Hague poet. Constant efforts made to attract his
attention to those poems however excited suspicion among his keepers, and
the scheme was discovered before the Leyden pensionary had found the
means to profit by it.'

The allusions to the trial of the Advocate referred to the preliminary
examination which took place, like the first interrogatories of Grotius
and Hoogerbeets, in the months of November and December.

The thorough manner in which Maurice had reformed the States of Holland
has been described. There was one department of that body however which
still required attention. The Order of Knights, small in number but
potential in influence, which always voted first on great occasions, was
still through a majority of its members inclined to Barneveld. Both his
sons-in-law had seats in that college. The Stadholder had long believed
in a spirit of hostility on the part of those nobles towards himself. He
knew that a short time before this epoch there had been a scheme for
introducing his young brother, Frederic Henry, into the Chamber of
Knights. The Count had become proprietor of the barony of Naaldwyk, a
property which he had purchased of the Counts of Arenberg, and which
carried with it the hereditary dignity of Great Equerry of the Counts of
Holland. As the Counts of Holland had ceased to exist, although their
sovereignty had nearly been revived and conferred upon William the
Silent, the office of their chief of the stables might be deemed a
sinecure. But the jealousy of Maurice was easily awakened, especially by
any movement made or favoured by the Advocate. He believed that in the
election of Frederic Henry as a member of the College of Knights a plan
lay concealed to thrust him into power and to push this elder brother
from his place. The scheme, if scheme it were, was never accomplished,
but the Prince's rancour remained.

He now informed the nobles that they must receive into their body Francis
Aerssens, who had lately purchased the barony of Sommelsdyk, and Daniel
de Hartaing, Seignior of Marquette. With the presence of this deadly
enemy of Barneveld and another gentleman equally devoted to the
Stadholder's interest it seemed probable that the refractory majority of
the board of nobles would be overcome. But there were grave objections to
the admission of these new candidates. They were not eligible. The
constitution of the States and of the college of nobles prescribed that
Hollanders only of ancient and noble race and possessing estates in the
province could sit in that body. Neither Aerssens nor Hartaing was born
in Holland or possessed of the other needful qualifications.
Nevertheless, the Prince, who had just remodelled all the municipalities
throughout the Union which offered resistance to his authority, was not
to be checked by so trifling an impediment as the statutes of the House
of Nobles. He employed very much the same arguments which he had used to
"good papa" Hooft. "This time it must be so." Another time it might not
be necessary. So after a controversy which ended as controversies are apt
to do when one party has a sword in his hand and the other is seated at a
green-baize-covered table, Sommelsdyk and Marquette took their seats
among the knights. Of course there was a spirited protest. Nothing was
easier for the Stadholder than to concede the principle while trampling
it with his boot-heels in practice.

"Whereas it is not competent for the said two gentlemen to be admitted to
our board," said the nobles in brief, "as not being constitutionally
eligible, nevertheless, considering the strong desire of his Excellency
the Prince of Orange, we, the nobles and knights of Holland, admit them
with the firm promise to each other by noble and knightly faith ever in
future for ourselves and descendants to maintain the privileges of our
order now violated and never again to let them be directly or indirectly
infringed."

And so Aerssens, the unscrupulous plotter, and dire foe of the Advocate
and all his house, burning with bitter revenge for all the favours he had
received from him during many years, and the author of the venomous
pamphlets and diatribes which had done so much of late to blacken the
character of the great statesman before the public, now associated
himself officially with his other enemies, while the preliminary
proceedings for the state trials went forward.

Meantime the Synod had met at Dordtrecht. The great John Bogerman, with
fierce, handsome face, beak and eye of a bird of prey, and a deluge of
curly brown beard reaching to his waist, took his seat as president.
Short work was made with the Armenians. They and their five Points were
soon thrust out into outer darkness.

It was established beyond all gainsaying that two forms of Divine worship
in one country were forbidden by God's Word, and that thenceforth by
Netherland law there could be but one religion, namely, the Reformed or
Calvinistic creed.

It was settled that one portion of the Netherlanders and of the rest of
the human race had been expressly created by the Deity to be for ever
damned, and another portion to be eternally blessed. But this history has
little to do with that infallible council save in the political effect of
its decrees on the fate of Barneveld. It was said that the canons of
Dordtrecht were likely to shoot off the head of the Advocate. Their
sessions and the trial of the Advocate were simultaneous, but not
technically related to each other.

The conclusions of both courts were preordained, for the issue of the
great duel between Priesthood and State had been decided when the
military chieftain threw his sword into the scale of the Church.

There had been purposely a delay, before coming to a decision as to the
fate of the state prisoners, until the work of the Synod should have
approached completion.

It was thought good that the condemnation of the opinions of the
Arminians and the chastisement of their leaders should go hand-in-hand.

On the 23rd April 1619, the canons were signed by all the members of the
Synod. Arminians were pronounced heretics, schismatics, teachers of false
doctrines. They were declared incapable of filling any clerical or
academical post. No man thenceforth was to teach children, lecture to
adolescents, or preach to the mature, unless a subscriber to the
doctrines of the unchanged, unchangeable, orthodox church. On the 30th
April and 1st May the Netherland Confession and the Heidelberg Catechism
were declared to be infallible. No change was to be possible in either
formulary.

Schools and pulpits were inexorably bound to the only true religion.

On the 6th May there was a great festival at Dordtrecht in honour of the
conclusion of the Synod. The canons, the sentence, and long prayers and
orations in Latin by President Bogerman gladdened the souls of an immense
multitude, which were further enlivened by the decree that both Creed and
Catechism had stood the test of several criticisms and come out unchanged
by a single hair. Nor did the orator of the occasion forget to render
thanks "to the most magnanimous King James of Great Britain, through
whose godly zeal, fiery sympathy, and truly royal labour God had so often
refreshed the weary Synod in the midst of their toil."

The Synod held one hundred and eighty sessions between the 13th November
1618 and 29th May 1619, all the doings of which have been recorded in
chronicles innumerable. There need be no further mention of them here.

Barneveld and the companions of his fate remained in prison.

On the 7th March the trial of the great Advocate began. He had sat in
prison since the 18th of the preceding August. For nearly seven months he
had been deprived of all communication with the outward world save such
atoms of intelligence as could be secretly conveyed to him in the inside
of a quill concealed in a pear and by other devices. The man who had
governed one of the most important commonwealths of the world for nearly
a generation long--during the same period almost controlling the politics
of Europe--had now been kept in ignorance of the most insignificant
everyday events. During the long summer-heat of the dog-days immediately
succeeding his arrest, and the long, foggy, snowy, icy winter of Holland
which ensued, he had been confined in that dreary garret-room to which he
had been brought when he left his temporary imprisonment in the
apartments of Prince Maurice.

There was nothing squalid in the chamber, nothing specially cruel or
repulsive in the arrangements of his captivity. He was not in fetters,
nor fed upon bread and water. He was not put upon the rack, nor even
threatened with it as Ledenberg had been. He was kept in a mean,
commonplace, meagerly furnished, tolerably spacious room, and he was
allowed the services of his faithful domestic servant John Franken. A
sentinel paced day and night up the narrow corridor before his door. As
spring advanced, the notes of the nightingale came through the
prison-window from the neighbouring thicket. One day John Franken,
opening the window that his master might the better enjoy its song,
exchanged greeting with a fellow-servant in the Barneveld mansion who
happened to be crossing the courtyard. Instantly workmen were sent to
close and barricade the windows, and it was only after earnest
remonstrances and pledges that this resolve to consign the Advocate to
darkness was abandoned.

He was not permitted the help of lawyer, clerk, or man of business. Alone
and from his chamber of bondage, suffering from bodily infirmities and
from the weakness of advancing age, he was compelled to prepare his
defence against a vague, heterogeneous collection of charges, to meet
which required constant reference, not only to the statutes, privileges,
and customs of the country and to the Roman law, but to a thousand minute
incidents out of which the history of the Provinces during the past dozen
years or more had been compounded.

It is true that no man could be more familiar with the science and
practice of the law than he was, while of contemporary history he was
himself the central figure. His biography was the chronicle of his
country. Nevertheless it was a fearful disadvantage for him day by day to
confront two dozen hostile judges comfortably seated at a great table
piled with papers, surrounded by clerks with bags full of documents and
with a library of authorities and precedents duly marked and dog's-eared
and ready to their hands, while his only library and chronicle lay in his
brain. From day to day, with frequent intermissions, he was led down
through the narrow turret-stairs to a wide chamber on the floor
immediately below his prison, where a temporary tribunal had been
arranged for the special commission.

There had been an inclination at first on the part of his judges to treat
him as a criminal, and to require him to answer, standing, to the
interrogatories propounded to him. But as the terrible old man advanced
into the room, leaning on his staff, and surveying them with the air of
haughty command habitual to him, they shrank before his glance; several
involuntarily, rising uncovered, to salute him and making way for him to
the fireplace about which many were standing that wintry morning.

He was thenceforth always accommodated with a seat while he listened to
and answered 'ex tempore' the elaborate series of interrogatories which
had been prepared to convict him.

Nearly seven months he had sat with no charges brought against him. This
was in itself a gross violation of the laws of the land, for according to
all the ancient charters of Holland it was provided that accusation
should follow within six weeks of arrest, or that the prisoner should go
free. But the arrest itself was so gross a violation of law that respect
for it was hardly to be expected in the subsequent proceedings. He was a
great officer of the States of Holland. He had been taken under their
especial protection. He was on his way to the High Council. He was in no
sense a subject of the States-General. He was in the discharge of his
official duty. He was doubly and trebly sacred from arrest. The place
where he stood was on the territory of Holland and in the very sanctuary
of her courts and House of Assembly. The States-General were only as
guests on her soil, and had no domain or jurisdiction there whatever. He
was not apprehended by any warrant or form of law. It was in time of
peace, and there was no pretence of martial law. The highest civil
functionary of Holland was invited in the name of its first military
officer to a conference, and thus entrapped was forcibly imprisoned.

At last a board of twenty-four commissioners was created, twelve from
Holland and two from each of the other six provinces. This affectation of
concession to Holland was ridiculous. Either the law 'de non
evocando'--according to which no citizen of Holland could be taken out of
the province for trial--was to be respected or it was to be trampled
upon. If it was to be trampled upon, it signified little whether more
commissioners were to be taken from Holland than from each of the other
provinces, or fewer, or none at all. Moreover it was pretended that a
majority of the whole board was to be assigned to that province. But
twelve is not a majority of twenty-four. There were three fascals or
prosecuting officers, Leeuwen of Utrecht, Sylla of Gelderland, and Antony
Duyck of Holland. Duyck was notoriously the deadly enemy of Barneveld,
and was destined to succeed to his offices. It would have been as well to
select Francis Aerssens himself.

It was necessary to appoint a commission because there was no tribunal
appertaining to the States-General. The general government of the
confederacy had no power to deal with an individual. It could only
negotiate with the sovereign province to which the individual was
responsible, and demand his punishment if proved guilty of an offence.
There was no supreme court of appeal. Machinery was provided for settling
or attempting to settle disputes among the members of the confederacy,
and if there was a culprit in this great process it was Holland itself.
Neither the Advocate nor any one of his associates had done any act
except by authority, express or implied, of that sovereign State.
Supposing them unquestionably guilty of blackest crimes against the
Generality, the dilemma was there which must always exist by the very
nature of things in a confederacy. No sovereign can try a fellow
sovereign. The subject can be tried at home by no sovereign but his own.

The accused in this case were amenable to the laws of Holland only.

It was a packed tribunal. Several of the commissioners, like Pauw and
Muis for example, were personal enemies of Barneveld. Many of them were
totally ignorant of law. Some of them knew not a word of any language but
their mother tongue, although much of the law which they were to
administer was written in Latin.

Before such a court the foremost citizen of the Netherlands, the first
living statesman of Europe, was brought day by day during a period of
nearly three months; coming down stairs from the mean and desolate room
where he was confined to the comfortable apartment below, which had been
fitted up for the commission.

There was no bill of indictment, no arraignment, no counsel. There were
no witnesses and no arguments. The court-room contained, as it were, only
a prejudiced and partial jury to pronounce both on law and fact without a
judge to direct them, or advocates to sift testimony and contend for or
against the prisoner's guilt. The process, for it could not be called a
trial, consisted of a vast series of rambling and tangled interrogatories
reaching over a space of forty years without apparent connection or
relevancy, skipping fantastically about from one period to another, back
and forthwith apparently no other intent than to puzzle the prisoner,
throw him off his balance, and lead him into self-contradiction.

The spectacle was not a refreshing one. It was the attempt of a multitude
of pigmies to overthrow and bind the giant.

Barneveld was served with no articles of impeachment. He asked for a list
in writing of the charges against him, that he might ponder his answer.
The demand was refused. He was forbidden the use of pen and ink or any
writing materials. His papers and books were all taken from him.

He was allowed to consult neither with an advocate nor even with a single
friend. Alone in his chamber of bondage he was to meditate on his
defence. Out of his memory and brain, and from these alone, he was to
supply himself with the array of historical facts stretching over a
longer period than the lifetime of many of his judges, and with the
proper legal and historical arguments upon those facts for the
justification of his course. That memory and brain were capacious and
powerful enough for the task. It was well for the judges that they had
bound themselves, at the outset, by an oath never to make known what
passed in the courtroom, but to bury all the proceedings in profound
secrecy forever. Had it been otherwise, had that been known to the
contemporary public which has only been revealed more than two centuries
later, had a portion only of the calm and austere eloquence been heard in
which the Advocate set forth his defence, had the frivolous and ignoble
nature of the attack been comprehended, it might have moved the very
stones in the streets to mutiny. Hateful as the statesman had been made
by an organized system of calumny, which was continued with unabated
vigour and increased venom sine he had been imprisoned, there was enough
of justice and of gratitude left in the hearts of Netherlanders to resent
the tyranny practised against their greatest man, and the obloquy thus
brought against a nation always devoted to their liberties and laws.

That the political system of the country was miserably defective was no
fault of Barneveld. He was bound by oath and duty to administer, not make
the laws. A handful of petty feudal sovereignties such as had once
covered the soil of Europe, a multitude of thriving cities which had
wrested or purchased a mass of liberties, customs, and laws from their
little tyrants, all subjected afterwards, without being blended together,
to a single foreign family, had at last one by one, or two by two, shaken
off that supremacy, and, resuming their ancient and as it were
decapitated individualities, had bound themselves by treaty in the midst
of a war to stand by each other, as if they were but one province, for
purposes of common defence against the common foe.

There had been no pretence of laying down a constitution, of enacting an
organic law. The day had not come for even the conception of a popular
constitution. The people had not been invented. It was not provinces
only, but cities, that had contracted with each other, according to the
very first words of the first Article of Union. Some of these cities,
like Ghent, Bruges, Antwerp, were Catholic by overwhelming majority, and
had subsequently either fallen away from the confederacy or been
conquered.

And as if to make assurance doubly sure, the Articles of Union not only
reserved to each province all powers not absolutely essential for
carrying on the war in common, but by an express article (the 13th),
declared that Holland and Zealand should regulate the matter of religion
according to their own discretion, while the other provinces might
conform to the provisions of the "Religious Peace" which included mutual
protection for Catholics and Protestants--or take such other order as
seemed most conducive to the religious and secular rights of the
inhabitants. It was stipulated that no province should interfere with
another in such matters, and that every individual in them all should
remain free in his religion, no man being molested or examined on account
of his creed. A farther declaration in regard to this famous article was
made to the effect that no provinces or cities which held to the Roman
Catholic religion were to be excluded from the League of Union if they
were ready to conform to its conditions and comport themselves
patriotically. Language could not be devised to declare more plainly than
was done by this treaty that the central government of the League had
neither wish nor right to concern itself with the religious affairs of
the separate cities or provinces. If it permitted both Papists and
Protestants to associate themselves against the common foe, it could
hardly have been imagined, when the Articles were drawn, that it would
have claimed the exclusive right to define the minutest points in a
single Protestant creed.

And if the exclusively secular parts of the polity prevailing in the
country were clumsy, irregular, and even monstrous, and if its defects
had been flagrantly demonstrated by recent events, a more reasonable
method of reforming the laws might have been found than the imprisonment
of a man who had faithfully administered them forty years long.

A great commonwealth had grown out of a petty feudal organism, like an
oak from an acorn in a crevice, gnarled and distorted, though
wide-spreading and vigorous. It seemed perilous to deal radically with
such a polity, and an almost timid conservatism on the part of its
guardians in such an age of tempests might be pardonable.

Moreover, as before remarked, the apparent imbecility resulting from
confederacy and municipalism combined was for a season remedied by the
actual preponderance of Holland. Two-thirds of the total wealth and
strength of the seven republics being concentrated in one province, the
desired union seemed almost gained by the practical solution of all in
that single republic. But this was one great cause of the general
disaster.

It would be a thankless and tedious task to wander through the wilderness
of interrogatories and answers extending over three months of time, which
stood in the place of a trial. The defence of Barneveld was his own
history, and that I have attempted to give in the preceding pages. A
great part of the accusation was deduced from his private and official
correspondence, and it is for this reason that I have laid such copious
extracts from it before the reader. No man except the judges and the
States-General had access to those letters, and it was easy therefore, if
needful, to give them a false colouring. It is only very recently that
they have been seen at all, and they have never been published from that
day to this.

Out of the confused mass of documents appertaining to the trial, a few
generalizations can be made which show the nature of the attack upon him.
He was accused of having permitted Arminius to infuse new opinions into
the University of Leyden, and of having subsequently defended the
appointment of Vorstius to the same place. He had opposed the National
Synod. He had made drafts of letters for the King of Great Britain to
sign, recommending mutual toleration on the five disputed points
regarding predestination. He was the author of the famous Sharp
Resolution. He had recommended the enlistment by the provinces and towns
of Waartgelders or mercenaries. He had maintained that those mercenaries
as well as the regular troops were bound in time of peace to be obedient
and faithful, not only to the Generality and the stadholders, but to the
magistrates of the cities and provinces where they were employed, and to
the states by whom they were paid. He had sent to Leyden, warning the
authorities of the approach of the Prince. He had encouraged all the
proceedings at Utrecht, writing a letter to the secretary of that
province advising a watch to be kept at the city gates as well as in the
river, and ordering his letter when read to be burned. He had received
presents from foreign potentates. He had attempted to damage the
character of his Excellency the Prince by declaring on various occasions
that he aspired to the sovereignty of the country. He had held a ciphered
correspondence on the subject with foreign ministers of the Republic. He
had given great offence to the King of Great Britain by soliciting from
him other letters in the sense of those which his Majesty had written in
1613, advising moderation and mutual toleration. He had not brought to
condign punishment the author of 'The Balance', a pamphlet in which an
oration of the English ambassador had been criticised, and aspersions
made on the Order of the Garter. He had opposed the formation of the West
India Company. He had said many years before to Nicolas van Berk that the
Provinces had better return to the dominion of Spain. And in general, all
his proceedings had tended to put the Provinces into a "blood bath."

There was however no accusation that he had received bribes from the
enemy or held traitorous communication with him, or that he had committed
any act of high-treason.

His private letters to Caron and to the ambassadors in Paris, with which
the reader has been made familiar, had thus been ransacked to find
treasonable matter, but the result was meagre in spite of the minute and
microscopic analysis instituted to detect traces of poison in them.

But the most subtle and far-reaching research into past transactions was
due to the Greffier Cornelis Aerssens, father of the Ambassador Francis,
and to a certain Nicolas van Berk, Burgomaster of Utrecht.

The process of tale-bearing, hearsay evidence, gossip, and invention went
back a dozen years, even to the preliminary and secret conferences in
regard to the Treaty of Truce.

Readers familiar with the history of those memorable negotiations are
aware that Cornelis van Aerssens had compromised himself by accepting a
valuable diamond and a bill of exchange drawn by Marquis Spinola on a
merchant in Amsterdam, Henry Beekman by name, for 80,000 ducats. These
were handed by Father Neyen, the secret agent of the Spanish government,
to the Greffier as a prospective reward for his services in furthering
the Truce. He did not reject them, but he informed Prince Maurice and the
Advocate of the transaction. Both diamond and bill of exchange were
subsequently deposited in the hands of the treasurer of the
States-General, Joris de Bie, the Assembly being made officially
acquainted with the whole course of the affair.

It is passing strange that this somewhat tortuous business, which
certainly cast a shade upon the fair fame of the elder Aerssens, and
required him to publish as good a defence as he could against the
consequent scandal, should have furnished a weapon wherewith to strike at
the Advocate of Holland some dozen years later.

But so it was. Krauwels, a relative of Aerssens, through whom Father
Neyen had first obtained access to the Greffier, had stated, so it
seemed, that the monk had, in addition to the bill, handed to him another
draft of Spinola's for 100,000 ducats, to be given to a person of more
consideration than Aerssens. Krauwels did not know who the person was,
nor whether he took the money. He expressed his surprise however that
leading persons in the government "even old and authentic
beggars"--should allow themselves to be so seduced as to accept presents
from the enemy. He mentioned two such persons, namely, a burgomaster at
Delft and a burgomaster at Haarlem. Aerssens now deposed that he had
informed the Advocate of this story, who had said, "Be quiet about it, I
will have it investigated," and some days afterwards on being questioned
stated that he had made enquiry and found there was something in it.

So the fact that Cornelis Aerssens had taken bribes, and that two
burgomasters were strongly suspected by Aerssens of having taken bribes,
seems to have been considered as evidence that Barneveld had taken a
bribe. It is true that Aerssens by advice of Maurice and Barneveld had
made a clean breast of it to the States-General and had given them over
the presents. But the States-General could neither wear the diamond nor
cash the bill of exchange, and it would have been better for the Greffier
not to contaminate his fingers with them, but to leave the gifts in the
monk's palm. His revenge against the Advocate for helping him out of his
dilemma, and for subsequently advancing his son Francis in a brilliant
diplomatic career, seems to have been--when the clouds were thickening
and every man's hand was against the fallen statesman--to insinuate that
he was the anonymous personage who had accepted the apocryphal draft for
100,000 ducats.

The case is a pregnant example of the proceedings employed to destroy the
Advocate.

The testimony of Nicolas van Berk was at any rate more direct.

On the 21st December 1618 the burgomaster testified that the Advocate had
once declared to him that the differences in regard to Divine Worship
were not so great but that they might be easily composed; asking him at
the same time "whether it would not be better that we should submit
ourselves again to the King of Spain." Barneveld had also referred, so
said van Berk, to the conduct of the Spanish king towards those who had
helped him to the kingdom of Portugal. The Burgomaster was unable however
to specify the date, year, or month in which the Advocate had held this
language. He remembered only that the conversation occurred when
Barneveld was living on the Spui at the Hague, and that having been let
into the house through the hall on the side of the vestibule, he had been
conducted by the Advocate down a small staircase into the office.

The only fact proved by the details seems to be that the story had lodged
in the tenacious memory of the Burgomaster for eight years, as Barneveld
had removed from the Spui to Arenberg House in the Voorhout in the year
1611.

No other offers from the King of Spain or the Archdukes had ever been
made to him, said van Berk, than those indicated in this deposition
against the Advocate as coming from that statesman. Nor had Barneveld
ever spoken to him upon such subjects except on that one occasion.

It is not necessary and would be wearisome to follow the unfortunate
statesman through the long line of defence which he was obliged to make,
in fragmentary and irregular form, against these discursive and confused
assaults upon him. A continuous argument might be built up with the
isolated parts which should be altogether impregnable. It is superfluous.

Always instructive to his judges as he swept at will through the record
of nearly half a century of momentous European history, in which he was
himself a conspicuous figure, or expounding the ancient laws and customs
of the country with a wealth and accuracy of illustration which testified
to the strength of his memory, he seemed rather like a sage expounding
law and history to a class of pupils than a criminal defending himself
before a bench of commissioners. Moved occasionally from his austere
simplicity, the majestic old man rose to a strain of indignant eloquence
which might have shaken the hall of a vast assembly and found echo in the
hearts of a thousand hearers as he denounced their petty insults or
ignoble insinuations; glaring like a caged lion at his tormentors, who
had often shrunk before him when free, and now attempted to drown his
voice by contradictions, interruptions, threats, and unmeaning howls.

He protested, from the outset and throughout the proceedings, against the
jurisdiction of the tribunal. The Treaty of Union on which the Assembly
and States-General were founded gave that assembly no power over him.
They could take no legal cognizance of his person or his acts. He had
been deprived of writing materials, or he would have already drawn up his
solemn protest and argument against the existence of the commission. He
demanded that they should be provided for him, together with a clerk to
engross his defence. It is needless to say that the demand was refused.

It was notorious to all men, he said, that on the day when violent hands
were laid upon him he was not bound to the States-General by oath,
allegiance, or commission. He was a well-known inhabitant of the Hague, a
householder there, a vassal of the Commonwealth of Holland, enfeoffed of
many notable estates in that country, serving many honourable offices by
commission from its government. By birth, promotion, and conferred
dignities he was subject to the supreme authority of Holland, which for
forty years had been a free state possessed of all the attributes of
sovereignty, political, religious, judicial, and recognizing no superior
save God Almighty alone.

He was amenable to no tribunal save that of their Mightinesses the States
of Holland and their ordinary judges. Not only those States but the
Prince of Orange as their governor and vassal, the nobles of Holland, the
colleges of justice, the regents of cities, and all other vassals,
magistrates, and officers were by their respective oaths bound to
maintain and protect him in these his rights.

After fortifying this position by legal argument and by an array of
historical facts within his own experience, and alluding to the repeated
instances in which, sorely against his will, he had been solicited and
almost compelled to remain in offices of which he was weary, he referred
with dignity to the record of his past life. From the youthful days when
he had served as a volunteer at his own expense in the perilous sieges of
Haarlem and Leyden down to the time of his arrest, through an unbroken
course of honourable and most arduous political services, embassies, and
great negotiations, he had ever maintained the laws and liberties of the
Fatherland and his own honour unstained.

That he should now in his seventy-second year be dragged, in violation of
every privilege and statute of the country, by extraordinary means,
before unknown judges, was a grave matter not for himself alone but for
their Mightinesses the States of Holland and for the other provinces. The
precious right 'de non evocando' had ever been dear to all the provinces,
cities, and inhabitants of the Netherlands. It was the most vital
privilege in their possession as well in civil as criminal, in secular as
in ecclesiastical affairs.

When the King of Spain in 1567, and afterwards, set up an extraordinary
tribunal and a course of extraordinary trials, it was an undeniable fact,
he said, that on the solemn complaint of the States all princes, nobles,
and citizens not only in the Netherlands but in foreign countries, and
all foreign kings and sovereigns, held those outrages to be the foremost
and fundamental reason for taking up arms against that king, and
declaring him to have forfeited his right of sovereignty.

Yet that monarch was unquestionably the born and accepted sovereign of
each one of the provinces, while the General Assembly was but a gathering
of confederates and allies, in no sense sovereign. It was an unimaginable
thing, he said, that the States of each province should allow their whole
authority and right of sovereignty to be transferred to a board of
commissioners like this before which he stood. If, for example, a general
union of France, England, and the States of the United Netherlands should
be formed (and the very words of the Act of Union contemplated such
possibility), what greater absurdity could there be than to suppose that
a college of administration created for the specific purposes of such
union would be competent to perform acts of sovereignty within each of
those countries in matters of justice, polity, and religion?

It was known to mankind, he said, that when negotiations were entered
into for bestowing the sovereignty of the Provinces on France and on
England, special and full powers were required from, and furnished by,
the States of each individual province.

Had the sovereignty been in the assembly of the States-General, they
might have transferred it of their own motion or kept it for themselves.

Even in the ordinary course of affairs the commissioners from each
province to the General Assembly always required a special power from
their constituents before deciding any matter of great importance.

In regard to the defence of the respective provinces and cities, he had
never heard it doubted, he said, that the states or the magistrates of
cities had full right to provide for it by arming a portion of their own
inhabitants or by enlisting paid troops. The sovereign counts of Holland
and bishops of Utrecht certainly possessed and exercised that right for
many hundred years, and by necessary tradition it passed to the states
succeeding to their ancient sovereignty. He then gave from the stores of
his memory innumerable instances in which soldiers had been enlisted by
provinces and cities all over the Netherlands from the time of the
abjuration of Spain down to that moment. Through the whole period of
independence in the time of Anjou, Matthias, Leicester, as well as under
the actual government, it had been the invariable custom thus to provide
both by land and sea and on the rivers against robbers, rebels, pirates,
mischief-makers, assailing thieves, domestic or foreign. It had been done
by the immortal William the Silent on many memorable occasions, and in
fact the custom was so notorious that soldiers so enlisted were known by
different and peculiar nicknames in the different provinces and towns.

That the central government had no right to meddle with religious matters
was almost too self-evident an axiom to prove. Indeed the chief
difficulty under which the Advocate laboured throughout this whole
process was the monstrous assumption by his judges of a political and
judicial system which never had any existence even in imagination. The
profound secrecy which enwrapped the proceedings from that day almost to
our own and an ignorant acquiescence of a considerable portion of the
public in accomplished facts offer the only explanation of a mystery
which must ever excite our wonder. If there were any impeachment at all,
it was an impeachment of the form of government itself. If language could
mean anything whatever, a mere perusal of the Articles of Union proved
that the prisoner had never violated that fundamental pact. How could the
general government prescribe an especial formulary for the Reformed
Church, and declare opposition to its decrees treasonable, when it did
not prohibit, but absolutely admitted and invited, provinces and cities
exclusively Catholic to enter the Union, guaranteeing to them entire
liberty of religion?

Barneveld recalled the fact that when the stadholdership of Utrecht
thirty years before had been conferred on Prince Maurice the States of
that province had solemnly reserved for themselves the disposition over
religious matters in conformity with the Union, and that Maurice had
sworn to support that resolution.

Five years later the Prince had himself assured a deputation from Brabant
that the States of each province were supreme in religious matters, no
interference the one with the other being justifiable or possible. In
1602 the States General in letters addressed to the States of the
obedient provinces under dominion of the Archdukes had invited them to
take up arms to help drive the Spaniards from the Provinces and to join
the Confederacy, assuring them that they should regulate the matter of
religion at their good pleasure, and that no one else should be allowed
to interfere therewith.

The Advocate then went into an historical and critical disquisition, into
which we certainly have no need to follow him, rapidly examining the
whole subject of predestination and conditional and unconditional
damnation from the days of St. Augustine downward, showing a thorough
familiarity with a subject of theology which then made up so much of the
daily business of life, political and private, and lay at the bottom of
the terrible convulsion then existing in the Netherlands. We turn from it
with a shudder, reminding the reader only how persistently the statesman
then on his trial had advocated conciliation, moderation, and kindness
between brethren of the Reformed Church who were not able to think alike
on one of the subtlest and most mysterious problems that casuistry has
ever propounded.

For fifty years, he said, he had been an enemy of all compulsion of the
human conscience. He had always opposed rigorous ecclesiastical decrees.
He had done his best to further, and did not deny having inspired, the
advice given in the famous letters from the King of Great Britain to the
States in 1613, that there should be mutual toleration and abstinence
from discussion of disputed doctrines, neither of them essential to
salvation. He thought that neither Calvin nor Beza would have opposed
freedom of opinion on those points. For himself he believed that the
salvation of mankind would be through God's unmerited grace and the
redemption of sins though the Saviour, and that the man who so held and
persevered to the end was predestined to eternal happiness, and that his
children dying before the age of reason were destined not to Hell but to
Heaven. He had thought fifty years long that the passion and sacrifice of
Christ the Saviour were more potent to salvation than God's wrath and the
sin of Adam and Eve to damnation. He had done his best practically to
avert personal bickerings among the clergy. He had been, so far as lay in
his power, as friendly to Remonstrants as to Contra-Remonstrants, to
Polyander and Festus Hommius as to Uytenbogaert and Episcopius. He had
almost finished a negotiation with Councillor Kromhout for the peaceable
delivery of the Cloister Church on the Thursday preceding the Sunday on
which it had been forcibly seized by the Contra-Remonstrants.

When asked by one of his judges how he presumed to hope for toleration
between two parties, each of which abhorred the other's opinions, and
likened each other to Turks and devil-worshippers, he replied that he had
always detested and rebuked those mutual revilings by every means in his
power, and would have wished to put down such calumniators of either
persuasion by the civil authority, but the iniquity of the times and the
exasperation of men's humours had prevented him.

Being perpetually goaded by one judge after another as to his
disrespectful conduct towards the King of Great Britain, and asked why
his Majesty had not as good right to give the advice of 1617 as the
recommendation of tolerance in 1613, he scrupulously abstained, as he had
done in all his letters, from saying a disrespectful word as to the
glaring inconsistency between the two communications, or to the hostility
manifested towards himself personally by the British ambassador. He had
always expressed the hope, he said, that the King would adhere to his
original position, but did not dispute his right to change his mind, nor
the good faith which had inspired his later letters. It had been his
object, if possible, to reconcile the two different systems recommended
by his Majesty into one harmonious whole.

His whole aim had been to preserve the public peace as it was the duty of
every magistrate, especially in times of such excitement, to do. He could
never comprehend why the toleration of the Five Points should be a danger
to the Reformed religion. Rather, he thought, it would strengthen the
Church and attract many Lutherans, Baptists, Catholics, and other good
patriots into its pale. He had always opposed the compulsory acceptance
by the people of the special opinions of scribes and doctors. He did not
consider, he said, the difference in doctrine on this disputed point
between the Contra-Remonstrants and Remonstrants as one-tenth the value
of the civil authority and its right to make laws and ordinances
regulating ecclesiastical affairs.

He believed the great bulwark of the independence of the country to be
the Reformed Church, and his efforts had ever been to strengthen that
bulwark by preventing the unnecessary schism which might prove its ruin.
Many questions of property, too, were involved in the question--the
church buildings, lands and pastures belonging to the Counts of Holland
and their successors--the States having always exercised the right of
church patronage--'jus patronatus'--a privilege which, as well as
inherited or purchased advowsons, had been of late flagrantly interfered
with.

He was asked if he had not said that it had never been the intention of
the States-General to carry on the war for this or that religion.

He replied that he had told certain clergymen expressing to him their
opinion that the war had been waged solely for the furtherance of their
especial shade of belief, that in his view the war had been undertaken
for the conservation of the liberties and laws of the land, and of its
good people. Of that freedom the first and foremost point was the true
Christian religion and liberty of conscience and opinion. There must be
religion in the Republic, he had said, but that the war was carried on to
sustain the opinion of one doctor of divinity or another on--differential
points was something he had never heard of and could never believe. The
good citizens of the country had as much right to hold by Melancthon as
by Calvin or Beza. He knew that the first proclamations in regard to the
war declared it to be undertaken for freedom of conscience, and so to
his, own knowledge it had been always carried on.

He was asked if he had not promised during the Truce negotiations so to
direct matters that the Catholics with time might obtain public exercise
of their religion.

He replied that this was a notorious falsehood and calumny, adding that
it ill accorded with the proclamation against the Jesuits drawn up by
himself some years after the Truce. He furthermore stated that it was
chiefly by his direction that the discourse of President Jeannin--urging
on part of the French king that liberty of worship might be granted to
the Papists--was kept secret, copies of it not having been furnished even
to the commissioners of the Provinces.

His indignant denial of this charge, especially taken in connection with
his repeated assertions during the trial, that among the most patriotic
Netherlanders during and since the war were many adherents of the ancient
church, seems marvellously in contradiction with his frequent and most
earnest pleas for liberty of conscience. But it did not appear
contradictory even to his judges nor to any contemporary. His position
had always been that the civil authority of each province was supreme in
all matters political or ecclesiastical. The States-General, all the
provinces uniting in the vote, had invited the Catholic provinces on more
than one occasion to join the Union, promising that there should be no
interference on the part of any states or individuals with the internal
affairs religious or otherwise of the provinces accepting the invitation.
But it would have been a gross contradiction of his own principle if he
had promised so to direct matters that the Catholics should have public
right of worship in Holland where he knew that the civil authority was
sure to refuse it, or in any of the other six provinces in whose internal
affairs he had no voice whatever. He was opposed to all tyranny over
conscience, he would have done his utmost to prevent inquisition into
opinion, violation of domicile, interference with private worship,
compulsory attendance in Protestant churches of those professing the
Roman creed. This was not attempted. No Catholic was persecuted on
account of his religion. Compared with the practice in other countries
this was a great step in advance. Religious tolerance lay on the road to
religious equality, a condition which had hardly been imagined then and
scarcely exists in Europe even to this day. But among the men in history
whose life and death contributed to the advancement of that blessing, it
would be vain to deny that Barneveld occupies a foremost place.

Moreover, it should be remembered that religious equality then would have
been a most hazardous experiment. So long as Church and State were
blended, it was absolutely essential at that epoch for the preservation
of Protestantism to assign the predominance to the State. Should the
Catholics have obtained religious equality, the probable result would
before long have been religious inequality, supremacy of the Catholics in
the Church, and supremacy of the Church over the State. The fruits of the
forty years' war would have become dust and ashes. It would be mere weak
sentimentalism to doubt--after the bloody history which had just closed
and the awful tragedy, then reopening--that every spark of religious
liberty would have soon been trodden out in the Netherlands. The general
onslaught of the League with Ferdinand, Maximilian of Bavaria, and Philip
of Spain at its head against the distracted, irresolute, and wavering
line of Protestantism across the whole of Europe was just preparing.
Rather a wilderness to reign over than a single heretic, was the war-cry
of the Emperor. The King of Spain, as we have just been reading in his
most secret, ciphered despatches to the Archduke at Brussels, was nursing
sanguine hopes and weaving elaborate schemes for recovering his dominion
over the United Netherlands, and proposing to send an army of Jesuits
thither to break the way to the reconquest. To play into his hands then,
by granting public right of worship to the Papists, would have been in
Barneveld's opinion like giving up Julich and other citadels in the
debatable land to Spain just as the great war between Catholicism and
Protestantism was breaking out. There had been enough of burning and
burying alive in the Netherlands during the century which had closed. It
was not desirable to give a chance for their renewal now.

In regard to the Synod, Barneveld justified his course by a simple
reference to the 13th Article of the Union. Words could not more plainly
prohibit the interference by the States-General with the religious
affairs of any one of the Provinces than had been done by that celebrated
clause. In 1583 there had been an attempt made to amend that article by
insertion of a pledge to maintain the Evangelical, Reformed, religion
solely, but it was never carried out. He disdained to argue so
self-evident a truth, that a confederacy which had admitted and
constantly invited Catholic states to membership, under solemn pledge of
noninterference with their religious affairs, had no right to lay down
formulas for the Reformed Church throughout all the Netherlands. The oath
of stadholder and magistrates in Holland to maintain the Reformed
religion was framed before this unhappy controversy on predestination had
begun, and it was mere arrogant assumption on the part of the
Contra-Remonstrants to claim a monopoly of that religion, and to exclude
the Remonstrants from its folds.

He had steadily done his utmost to assuage those dissensions while
maintaining the laws which he was sworn to support. He had advocated a
provincial synod to be amicably assisted by divines from neighbouring
countries. He had opposed a National Synod unless unanimously voted by
the Seven Provinces, because it would have been an open violation of the
fundamental law of the confederacy, of its whole spirit, and of liberty
of conscience. He admitted that he had himself drawn up a protest on the
part of three provinces (Holland, Utrecht, and Overyssel) against the
decree for the National Synod as a breach of the Union, declaring it to
be therefore null and void and binding upon no man. He had dictated the
protest as oldest member present, while Grotius as the youngest had acted
as scribe. He would have supported the Synod if legally voted, but would
have preferred the convocation, under the authority of all the provinces,
of a general, not a national, synod, in which, besides clergy and laymen
from the Netherlands, deputations from all Protestant states and churches
should take part; a kind of Protestant oecumenical council.

As to the enlistment, by the States of a province, of soldiers to keep
the peace and suppress tumults in its cities during times of political
and religious excitement, it was the most ordinary of occurrences. In his
experience of more than forty years he had never heard the right even
questioned. It was pure ignorance of law and history to find it a
novelty.

To hire temporarily a sufficient number of professional soldiers, he
considered a more wholesome means of keeping the peace than to enlist one
portion of the citizens of a town against another portion, when party and
religious spirit was running high. His experience had taught him that the
mutual hatred of the inhabitants, thus inflamed, became more lasting and
mischievous than the resentment caused through suppression of disorder by
an armed and paid police of strangers.

It was not only the right but the most solemn duty of the civil authority
to preserve the tranquillity, property, and lives of citizens committed
to their care. "I have said these fifty years," said Barneveld, "that it
is better to be governed by magistrates than mobs. I have always
maintained and still maintain that the most disastrous, shameful, and
ruinous condition into which this land can fall is that in which the
magistrates are overcome by the rabble of the towns and receive laws from
them. Nothing but perdition can follow from that."

There had been good reason to believe that the French garrisons as well
as some of the train bands could not be thoroughly relied upon in
emergencies like those constantly breaking out, and there had been
advices of invasion by sympathizers from neighbouring countries. In many
great cities the civil authority had been trampled upon and mob rule had
prevailed. Certainly the recent example in the great commercial capital
of the country--where the house of a foremost citizen had been besieged,
stormed, and sacked, and a virtuous matron of the higher class hunted
like a wild beast through the streets by a rabble grossly ignorant of the
very nature of the religious quibble which had driven them mad, pelted
with stones, branded with vilest names, and only saved by accident from
assassination, while a church-going multitude looked calmly on--with
constantly recurring instances in other important cities were sufficient
reasons for the authorities to be watchful.

He denied that he had initiated the proceedings at Utrecht in
conversation with Ledenberg or any one else, but he had not refused, he
said, his approval of the perfectly legal measures adopted for keeping
the peace there when submitted to him. He was himself a born citizen of
that province, and therefore especially interested in its welfare, and
there was an old and intimate friendship between Utrecht and Holland. It
would have been painful to him to see that splendid city in the control
of an ignorant mob, making use of religious problems, which they did not
comprehend, to plunder the property and take the lives of peaceful
citizens more comfortably housed than themselves.

He had neither suggested nor controlled the proceedings at Utrecht. On
the contrary, at an interview with the Prince and Count William on the
13th July, and in the presence of nearly thirty members of the general
assembly, he had submitted a plan for cashiering the enlisted soldiery
and substituting for them other troops, native-born, who should be sworn
in the usual form to obey the laws of the Union. The deputation from
Holland to Utrecht, according to his personal knowledge, had received no
instructions personal or oral to authorize active steps by the troops of
the Holland quota, but to abstain from them and to request the Prince
that they should not be used against the will and commands of the States
of Utrecht, whom they were bound by oath to obey so long as they were in
garrison there.

No man knew better than he whether the military oath which was called
new-fangled were a novelty or not, for he had himself, he said, drawn it
up thirty years before at command of the States-General by whom it was
then ordained. From that day to this he had never heard a pretence that
it justified anything not expressly sanctioned by the Articles of Union,
and neither the States of Holland nor those of Utrecht had made any
change in the oath. The States of Utrecht were sovereign within their own
territory, and in the time of peace neither the Prince of Orange without
their order nor the States-General had the right to command the troops in
their territory. The governor of a province was sworn to obey the laws of
the province and conform to the Articles of the General Union.

He was asked why he wrote the warning letter to Ledenberg, and why he was
so anxious that the letter should be burned; as if that were a deadly
offence.

He said that he could not comprehend why it should be imputed to him as a
crime that he wished in such turbulent times to warn so important a city
as Utrecht, the capital of his native province, against tumults,
disorders, and sudden assaults such as had often happened to her in times
past. As for the postscript requesting that the letter might be put in
the fire, he said that not being a member of, the government of that
province he was simply unwilling to leave a record that "he had been too
curious in aliens republics, although that could hardly be considered a
grave offence."

In regard to the charge that he had accused Prince Maurice of aspiring to
the sovereignty of the country, he had much to say. He had never brought
such accusation in public or private. He had reason to believe
however--he had indeed convincing proofs--that many people, especially
those belonging to the Contra-Remonstrant party, cherished such schemes.
He had never sought to cast suspicion on the Prince himself on account of
those schemes. On the contrary, he had not even formally opposed them.
What he wished had always been that such projects should be discussed
formally, legally, and above board. After the lamentable murder of the
late Prince he had himself recommended to the authorities of some of the
cities that the transaction for bestowing the sovereignty of Holland upon
William, interrupted by his death, "should be completed in favour of
Prince Maurice in despite of the Spaniard." Recently he had requested
Grotius to look up the documents deposited in Rotterdam belonging to this
affair, in order that they might be consulted.

He was asked whether according to Buzenval, the former French ambassador,
Prince Maurice had not declared he would rather fling himself from the
top of the Hague tower than accept the sovereignty. Barneveld replied
that the Prince according to the same authority had added "under the
conditions which had been imposed upon his father;" a clause which
considerably modified the self-denying statement. It was desirable
therefore to search the acts for the limitations annexed to the
sovereignty.

Three years long there had been indications from various sources that a
party wished to change the form of government. He had not heard nor ever
intimated that the Prince suggested such intrigues. In anonymous
pamphlets and common street and tavern conversations the
Contra-Remonstrants were described by those of their own persuasion as
"Prince's Beggars" and the like. He had received from foreign countries
information worthy of attention, that it was the design of the
Contra-Remonstrants to raise the Prince to the sovereignty. He had
therefore in 1616 brought the matter before the nobles and cities in a
communication setting forth to the best of his recollection that under
these religious disputes something else was intended. He had desired ripe
conclusions on the matter, such as should most conduce to the service of
the country. This had been in good faith both to the Prince and the
Provinces, in order that, should a change in the government be thought
desirable, proper and peaceful means might be employed to bring it about.
He had never had any other intention than to sound the inclinations of
those with whom he spoke, and he had many times since that period, by
word of mouth and in writing, so lately as the month of April last
assured the Prince that he had ever been his sincere and faithful servant
and meant to remain so to the end of his life, desiring therefore that he
would explain to him his wishes and intentions.

Subsequently he had publicly proposed in full Assembly of Holland that
the States should ripely deliberate and roundly declare if they were
discontented with the form of government, and if so, what change they
would desire. He had assured their Mightinesses that they might rely upon
him to assist in carrying out their intentions whatever they might be. He
had inferred however from the Prince's intimations, when he had broached
the subject to him in 1617, that he was not inclined towards these
supposed projects, and had heard that opinion distinctly expressed from
the mouth of Count William.

That the Contra-Remonstrants secretly entertained these schemes, he had
been advised from many quarters, at home and abroad. In the year 1618 he
had received information to that effect from France. Certain confidential
counsellors of the Prince had been with him recently to confer on the
subject. He had told them that, if his Excellency chose to speak to him
in regard to it, would listen to his reasoning about it, both as regarded
the interests of the country and the Prince himself, and then should
desire him to propose and advocate it before the Assembly, he would do so
with earnestness, zeal, and affection. He had desired however that, in
case the attempt failed, the Prince would allow him to be relieved from
service and to leave the country. What he wished from the bottom of his
heart was that his Excellency would plainly discover to him the exact
nature of his sentiments in regard to the business.

He fully admitted receiving a secret letter from Ambassador Langerac,
apprising him that a man of quality in France had information of the
intention of the Contra-Remonstrants throughout the Provinces, should
they come into power, to raise Prince Maurice to the sovereignty. He had
communicated on the subject with Grotius and other deputies in order
that, if this should prove to be the general inclination, the affair
might be handled according to law, without confusion or disorder. This,
he said, would be serving both the country and the Prince most
judiciously.

He was asked why he had not communicated directly with Maurice. He
replied that he had already seen how unwillingly the Prince heard him
allude to the subject, and that moreover there was another clause in the
letter of different meaning, and in his view worthy of grave
consideration by the States.

No question was asked him as to this clause, but we have seen that it
referred to the communication by du Agean to Langerac of a scheme for
bestowing the sovereignty of the Provinces on the King of France. The
reader will also recollect that Barneveld had advised the Ambassador to
communicate the whole intelligence to the Prince himself.

Barneveld proceeded to inform the judges that he had never said a word to
cast suspicion upon the Prince, but had been actuated solely by the
desire to find out the inclination of the States. The communications
which he had made on the subject were neither for discrediting the Prince
nor for counteracting the schemes for his advancement. On the contrary,
he had conferred with deputies from great cities like Dordtrecht,
Enkhuyzen, and Amsterdam, most devoted to the Contra-Remonstrant party,
and had told them that, if they chose to propose the subject themselves,
he would conduct himself to the best of his abilities in accordance with
the wishes of the Prince.

It would seem almost impossible for a statesman placed in Barneveld's
position to bear himself with more perfect loyalty both to the country
and to the Stadholder. His duty was to maintain the constitution and laws
so long as they remained unchanged. Should it appear that the States,
which legally represented the country, found the constitution defective,
he was ready to aid in its amendment by fair public and legal methods.

If Maurice wished to propose himself openly as a candidate for the
sovereignty, which had a generation before been conferred upon his
father, Barneveld would not only acquiesce in the scheme, but propose it.

Should it fail, he claimed the light to lay down all his offices and go
into exile.

He had never said that the Prince was intriguing for, or even desired,
the sovereignty. That the project existed among the party most opposed to
himself, he had sufficient proof. To the leaders of that party therefore
he suggested that the subject should be publicly discussed, guaranteeing
freedom of debate and his loyal support so far as lay within his power.

This was his answer to the accusation that he had meanly, secretly, and
falsely circulated statements that the Prince was aspiring to the
sovereignty.

   [Great pains were taken, in the course of the interrogatories, to
   elicit proof that the Advocate had concealed important diplomatic
   information from the Prince. He was asked why, in his secret
   instructions to Ambassador Langerac, he ordered him by an express
   article to be very cautious about making communications to the
   Prince. Searching questions were put in regard to these secret
   instructions, which I have read in the Archives, and a copy of which
   now lies before me. They are in the form of questions, some of them
   almost puerile ones, addressed to Barneveld by the Ambassador then
   just departing on his mission to France in 1614, with the answers
   written in the margin by the Advocate. The following is all that
   has reference to the Prince:
   "Of what matters may I ordinarily write to his Excellency?"
   Answer--"Of all great and important matters."
   It was difficult to find much that was treasonable in that.]

Among the heterogeneous articles of accusation he was asked why he had
given no attention to those who had so, frequently proposed the formation
of the West India Company.

He replied that it had from old time been the opinion of the States of
Holland, and always his own, that special and private licenses for
traffic, navigation, and foreign commerce, were prejudicial to the
welfare of the land. He had always been most earnestly opposed to them,
detesting monopolies which interfered with that free trade and navigation
which should be common to all mankind. He had taken great pains however
in the years 1596 and 1597 to study the nature of the navigation and
trade to the East Indies in regard to the nations to be dealt with in
those regions, the nature of the wares bought and sold there, the
opposition to be encountered from the Spaniards and Portuguese against
the commerce of the Netherlanders, and the necessity of equipping vessels
both for traffic and defence, and had come to the conclusion that these
matters could best be directed by a general company. He explained in
detail the manner in which he had procured the blending of all the
isolated chambers into one great East India Corporation, the enormous
pains which it had cost him to bring it about, and the great commercial
and national success which had been the result. The Admiral of Aragon,
when a prisoner after the battle of Nieuwpoort, had told him, he said,
that the union of these petty corporations into one great whole had been
as disastrous a blow to the kingdoms of Spain and Portugal as the Union
of the Provinces at Utrecht had been. In regard to the West India
Company, its sole object, so far as he could comprehend it, had been to
equip armed vessels, not for trade but to capture and plunder Spanish
merchantmen and silver fleets in the West Indies and South America. This
was an advantageous war measure which he had favoured while the war
lasted. It was in no sense a commercial scheme however, and when the
Truce had been made--the company not having come into existence--he
failed to comprehend how its formation could be profitable for the
Netherlanders. On the contrary it would expressly invite or irritate the
Spaniards into a resumption of the war, an object which in his humble
opinion was not at all desirable.

Certainly these ideas were not especially reprehensible, but had they
been as shallow and despicable as they seem to us enlightened, it is
passing strange that they should have furnished matter for a criminal
prosecution.

It was doubtless a disappointment for the promoters of the company, the
chief of whom was a bankrupt, to fail in obtaining their charter, but it
was scarcely high-treason to oppose it. There is no doubt however that
the disapprobation with which Barneveld regarded the West India Company,
the seat of which was at Amsterdam, was a leading cause of the deadly
hostility entertained for him by the great commercial metropolis.

It was bad enough for the Advocate to oppose unconditional predestination
and the damnation of infants, but to frustrate a magnificent system of
privateering on the Spaniards in time of truce was an unpardonable crime.

The patience with which the venerable statesman submitted to the taunts,
ignorant and insolent cross-questionings, and noisy interruptions of his
judges, was not less remarkable than the tenacity of memory which enabled
him thus day after day, alone, unaided by books, manuscripts, or friendly
counsel, to reconstruct the record of forty years, and to expound the
laws of the land by an array of authorities, instances, and illustrations
in a manner that would be deemed masterly by one who had all the
resources of libraries, documents, witnesses, and secretaries at command.

Only when insidious questions were put tending to impute to him
corruption, venality, and treacherous correspondence with the enemy--for
they never once dared formally to accuse him of treason--did that almost
superhuman patience desert him.

He was questioned as to certain payments made by him to a certain van der
Vecken in Spanish coin. He replied briefly at first that his money
transactions with that man of business extended over a period of twenty
or thirty years, and amounted to many hundred thousands of florins,
growing out of purchases and sales of lands, agricultural enterprises on
his estates, moneys derived from his professional or official business
and the like. It was impossible for him to remember the details of every
especial money payment that might have occurred between them.

Then suddenly breaking forth into a storm of indignation; he could mark
from these questions, he said, that his enemies, not satisfied with
having wounded his heart with their falsehoods, vile forgeries, and
honour-robbing libels, were determined to break it. This he prayed that
God Almighty might avert and righteously judge between him and them.

It was plain that among other things they were alluding to the stale and
senseless story of the sledge filled with baskets of coin sent by the
Spanish envoys on their departure from the Hague, on conclusion of the
Truce, to defray expenses incurred by them for board and lodging of
servants, forage of horses, and the like-which had accidentally stopped
at Barneveld's door and was forthwith sent on to John Spronssen,
superintendent of such affairs. Passing over this wanton bit of calumny
with disgust, he solemnly asserted that he had never at any period of his
life received one penny nor the value of one penny from the King of
Spain, the Archdukes, Spinola, or any other person connected with the
enemy, saving only the presents publicly and mutually conferred according
to invariable custom by the high contracting parties, upon the respective
negotiators at conclusion of the Treaty of Truce. Even these gifts
Barneveld had moved his colleagues not to accept, but proposed that they
should all be paid into the public treasury. He had been overruled, he
said, but that any dispassionate man of tolerable intelligence could
imagine him, whose whole life had been a perpetual offence to Spain, to
be in suspicious relations with that power seemed to him impossible. The
most intense party spirit, yea, envy itself, must confess that he had
been among the foremost to take up arms for his country's liberties, and
had through life never faltered in their defence. And once more in that
mean chamber, and before a row of personal enemies calling themselves
judges, he burst into an eloquent and most justifiable sketch of the
career of one whom there was none else to justify and so many to assail.

From his youth, he said, he had made himself by his honourable and
patriotic deeds hopelessly irreconcilable with the Spaniards. He was one
of the advocates practising in the Supreme Court of Holland, who in the
very teeth of the Duke of Alva had proclaimed him a tyrant and had sworn
obedience to the Prince of Orange as the lawful governor of the land. He
was one of those who in the same year had promoted and attended private
gatherings for the advancement of the Reformed religion. He had helped to
levy, and had contributed to, funds for the national defence in the early
days of the revolt. These were things which led directly to the Council
of Blood and the gibbet. He had borne arms himself on various bloody
fields and had been perpetually a deputy to the rebel camps. He had been
the original mover of the Treaty of Union which was concluded between the
Provinces at Utrecht. He had been the first to propose and to draw up the
declaration of Netherland independence and the abjuration of the King of
Spain. He had been one of those who had drawn and passed the Act
establishing the late Prince of Orange as stadholder. Of the sixty
signers of these memorable declarations none were now living save himself
and two others. When the Prince had been assassinated, he had done his
best to secure for his son Maurice the sovereign position of which murder
had so suddenly deprived the father. He had been member of the memorable
embassies to France and England by which invaluable support for the
struggling Provinces had been obtained.

And thus he rapidly sketched the history of the great war of independence
in which he had ever been conspicuously employed on the patriotic side.
When the late King of France at the close of the century had made peace
with Spain, he had been sent as special ambassador to that monarch, and
had prevailed on him, notwithstanding his treaty with the enemy, to
continue his secret alliance with the States and to promise them a large
subsidy, pledges which had been sacredly fulfilled. It was on that
occasion that Henry, who was his debtor for past services, professional,
official, and perfectly legitimate, had agreed, when his finances should
be in better condition, to discharge his obligations; over and above the
customary diplomatic present which he received publicly in common with
his colleague Admiral Nassau. This promise, fulfilled a dozen years
later, had been one of the senseless charges of corruption brought
against him. He had been one of the negotiators of the Truce in which
Spain had been compelled to treat with her revolted provinces as with
free states and her equals. He had promoted the union of the Protestant
princes and their alliance with France and the United States in
opposition to the designs of Spain and the League. He had organized and
directed the policy by which the forces of England, France, and
Protestant Germany had possessed themselves of the debateable land. He
had resisted every scheme by which it was hoped to force the States from
their hold of those important citadels. He had been one of the foremost
promoters of the East India Company, an organization which the Spaniards
confessed had been as damaging to them as the Union of the Provinces
itself had been.

The idiotic and circumstantial statements, that he had conducted
Burgomaster van Berk through a secret staircase of his house into his
private study for the purpose of informing him that the only way for the
States to get out of the war was to submit themselves once more to their
old masters, so often forced upon him by the judges, he contradicted with
disdain and disgust. He had ever abhorred and dreaded, he said, the House
of Spain, Austria, and Burgundy. His life had passed in open hostility to
that house, as was known to all mankind. His mere personal interests,
apart from higher considerations, would make an approach to the former
sovereign impossible, for besides the deeds he had already alluded to, he
had committed at least twelve distinct and separate acts, each one of
which would be held high-treason by the House of Austria, and he had
learned from childhood that these are things which monarchs never forget.
The tales of van Berk were those of a personal enemy, falsehoods scarcely
worth contradicting.

He was grossly and enormously aggrieved by the illegal constitution of
the commission. He had protested and continued to protest against it. If
that protest were unheeded, he claimed at least that those men should be
excluded from the board and the right to sit in judgment upon his person
and his deeds who had proved themselves by words and works to be his
capital enemies, of which fact he could produce irrefragable evidence. He
claimed that the Supreme Court of Holland, or the High Council, or both
together, should decide upon that point. He held as his personal enemies,
he said, all those who had declared that he, before or since the Truce
down to the day of his arrest, had held correspondence with the
Spaniards, the Archdukes, the Marquis Spinola, or any one on that side,
had received money, money value, or promises of money from them, and in
consequence had done or omitted to do anything whatever. He denounced
such tales as notorious, shameful, and villainous falsehoods, the
utterers and circulators of them as wilful liars, and this he was ready
to maintain in every appropriate way for the vindication of the truth and
his own honour. He declared solemnly before God Almighty to the
States-General and to the States of Holland that his course in the
religious matter had been solely directed to the strengthening of the
Reformed religion and to the political security of the provinces and
cities. He had simply desired that, in the awful and mysterious matter of
predestination, the consciences of many preachers and many thousands of
good citizens might be placed in tranquillity, with moderate and
Christian limitations against all excesses.

From all these reasons, he said, the commissioners, the States-General,
the Prince, and every man in the land could clearly see, and were bound
to see, that he was the same man now that he was at the beginning of the
war, had ever been, and with God's help should ever remain.

The proceedings were kept secret from the public and, as a matter of
course, there had been conflicting rumours from day to day as to the
probable result of these great state trials. In general however it was
thought that the prisoner would be acquitted of the graver charges, or
that at most he would be permanently displaced from all office and
declared incapable thenceforth to serve the State. The triumph of the
Contra-Remonstrants since the Stadholder had placed himself at the head
of them, and the complete metamorphosis of the city governments even in
the strongholds of the Arminian party seemed to render the permanent
political disgrace of the Advocate almost a matter of certainty.

The first step that gave rise to a belief that he might be perhaps more
severely dealt with than had been anticipated was the proclamation by the
States-General of a public fast and humiliation for the 17th April.

In this document it was announced that "Church and State--during several
years past having been brought into great danger of utter destruction
through certain persons in furtherance of their ambitious designs--had
been saved by the convocation of a National Synod; that a lawful sentence
was soon to be expected upon those who had been disturbing the
Commonwealth; that through this sentence general tranquillity would
probably be restored; and that men were now to thank God for this result,
and pray to Him that He would bring the wicked counsels and stratagems of
the enemy against these Provinces to naught."

All the prisoners were asked if they too would like in their chambers of
bondage to participate in the solemnity, although the motive for the
fasting and prayer was not mentioned to them. Each of them in his
separate prison room, of course without communication together, selected
the 7th Psalm and sang it with his servant and door-keeper.

From the date of this fast-day Barneveld looked upon the result of his
trial as likely to be serious.

Many clergymen refused or objected to comply with the terms of this
declaration. Others conformed with it greedily, and preached lengthy
thanksgiving sermons, giving praise to God that, He had confounded the
devices of the ambitious and saved the country from the "blood bath"
which they had been preparing for it.

The friends of Barneveld became alarmed at the sinister language of this
proclamation, in which for the first time allusions had been made to a
forthcoming sentence against the accused.

Especially the staunch and indefatigable du Maurier at once addressed
himself again to the States-General. De Boississe had returned to France,
having found that the government of a country torn, weakened, and
rendered almost impotent by its own internecine factions, was not likely
to exert any very potent influence on the fate of the illustrious
prisoner.

The States had given him to understand that they were wearied with his
perpetual appeals, intercessions, and sermons in behalf of mercy. They
made him feel in short that Lewis XIII. and Henry IV. were two entirely
different personages.

Du Maurier however obtained a hearing before the Assembly on the 1st May,
where he made a powerful and manly speech in presence of the Prince,
urging that the prisoners ought to be discharged unless they could be
convicted of treason, and that the States ought to show as much deference
to his sovereign as they had always done to Elizabeth of England. He made
a personal appeal to Prince Maurice, urging upon him how much it would
redound to his glory if he should now in generous and princely fashion
step forward in behalf of those by whom he deemed himself to have been
personally offended.

His speech fell upon ears hardened against such eloquence and produced no
effect.

Meantime the family of Barneveld, not yet reduced to despair, chose to
take a less gloomy view of the proclamation. Relying on the innocence of
the great statesman, whose aims, in their firm belief, had ever been for
the welfare and glory of his fatherland, and in whose heart there had
never been kindled one spark of treason, they bravely expected his
triumphant release from his long and, as they deemed it, his iniquitous
imprisonment.

On this very 1st of May, in accordance with ancient custom, a may-pole
was erected on the Voorhout before the mansion of the captive statesman,
and wreaths of spring flowers and garlands of evergreen decorated the
walls within which were such braised and bleeding hearts. These
demonstrations of a noble hypocrisy, if such it were, excited the wrath,
not the compassion, of the Stadholder, who thought that the aged matron
and her sons and daughters, who dwelt in that house of mourning, should
rather have sat in sackcloth with ashes on their heads than indulge in
these insolent marks of hope and joyful expectation.

It is certain however that Count William Lewis, who, although most
staunch on the Contra-Remonstrant side, had a veneration for the Advocate
and desired warmly to save him, made a last and strenuous effort for that
purpose.

It was believed then, and it seems almost certain, that, if the friends
of the Advocate had been willing to implore pardon for him, the sentence
would have been remitted or commuted. Their application would have been
successful, for through it his guilt would seem to be acknowledged.

Count William sent for the Fiscal Duyck. He asked him if there were no
means of saving the life of a man who was so old and had done the country
so much service. After long deliberation, it was decided that Prince
Maurice should be approached on the subject. Duyck wished that the Count
himself would speak with his cousin, but was convinced by his reasoning
that it would be better that the Fiscal should do it. Duyck had a long
interview accordingly with Maurice, which was followed by a very secret
one between them both and Count William. The three were locked up
together, three hours long, in the Prince's private cabinet. It was then
decided that Count William should go, as if of his own accord, to the
Princess-Dowager Louise, and induce her to send for some one of
Barneveld's children and urge that the family should ask pardon for him.
She asked if this was done with the knowledge of the Prince of Orange, or
whether he would not take it amiss. The Count eluded the question, but
implored her to follow his advice.

The result was an interview between the Princess and Madame de
Groeneveld, wife of the eldest son. That lady was besought to apply, with
the rest of the Advocate's children, for pardon to the Lords States, but
to act as if it were done of her own impulse, and to keep their interview
profoundly secret.

Madame de Groeneveld took time to consult the other members of the family
and some friends. Soon afterwards she came again to the Princess, and
informed her that she had spoken with the other children, and that they
could not agree to the suggestion. "They would not move one step in
it--no, not if it should cost him his head."

The Princess reported the result of this interview to Count William, at
which both were so distressed that they determined to leave the Hague.

There is something almost superhuman in the sternness of this stoicism.
Yet it lay in the proud and highly tempered character of the
Netherlanders. There can be no doubt that the Advocate would have
expressly dictated this proceeding if he had been consulted. It was
precisely the course adopted by himself. Death rather than life with a
false acknowledgment of guilt and therefore with disgrace. The loss of
his honour would have been an infinitely greater triumph to his enemies
than the loss of his head.

There was no delay in drawing up the sentence. Previously to this
interview with the widow of William the Silent, the family of the
Advocate had presented to the judges three separate documents, rather in
the way of arguments than petitions, undertaking to prove by elaborate
reasoning and citations of precedents and texts of the civil law that the
proceedings against him were wholly illegal, and that he was innocent of
every crime.

No notice had been taken of those appeals.

Upon the questions and answers as already set forth the sentence soon
followed, and it may be as well that the reader should be aware, at this
point in the narrative, of the substance of that sentence so soon to be
pronounced. There had been no indictment, no specification of crime.
There had been no testimony or evidence. There had been no argument for
the prosecution or the defence. There had been no trial whatever. The
prisoner was convicted on a set of questions to which he had put in
satisfactory replies. He was sentenced on a preamble. The sentence was a
string of vague generalities, intolerably long, and as tangled as the
interrogatories. His proceedings during a long career had on the whole
tended to something called a "blood bath"--but the blood bath had never
occurred.

With an effrontery which did not lack ingenuity, Barneveld's defence was
called by the commissioners his confession, and was formally registered
as such in the process and the sentence; while the fact that he had not
been stretched upon the rack during his trial, nor kept in chains for the
eight months of his imprisonment, were complacently mentioned as proofs
of exceptionable indulgence.

"Whereas the prisoner John of Barneveld," said the sentence, "without
being put to the torture and without fetters of iron, has confessed . . .
to having perturbed religion, greatly afflicted the Church of God, and
carried into practice exorbitant and pernicious maxims of State . . .
inculcating by himself and accomplices that each province had the right
to regulate religious affairs within its own territory, and that other
provinces were not to concern themselves therewith"--therefore and for
many other reasons he merited punishment.

He had instigated a protest by vote of three provinces against the
National Synod. He had despised the salutary advice of many princes and
notable personages. He had obtained from the King of Great Britain
certain letters furthering his own opinions, the drafts of which he had
himself suggested, and corrected and sent over to the States' ambassador
in London, and when written out, signed, and addressed by the King to the
States-General, had delivered them without stating how they had been
procured.

Afterwards he had attempted to get other letters of a similar nature from
the King, and not succeeding had defamed his Majesty as being a cause of
the troubles in the Provinces. He had permitted unsound theologians to be
appointed to church offices, and had employed such functionaries in
political affairs as were most likely to be the instruments of his own
purposes. He had not prevented vigorous decrees from being enforced in
several places against those of the true religion. He had made them
odious by calling them Puritans, foreigners, and "Flanderizers," although
the United Provinces had solemnly pledged to each other their lives,
fortunes, and blood by various conventions, to some of which the prisoner
was himself a party, to maintain the Reformed, Evangelical, religion
only, and to, suffer no change in it to be made for evermore.

In order to carry out his design and perturb the political state of the
Provinces he had drawn up and caused to be enacted the Sharp Resolution
of 4th August 1617. He had thus nullified the ordinary course of justice.
He had stimulated the magistrates to disobedience, and advised them to
strengthen themselves with freshly enlisted military companies. He had
suggested new-fangled oaths for the soldiers, authorizing them to refuse
obedience to the States-General and his Excellency. He had especially
stimulated the proceedings at Utrecht. When it was understood that the
Prince was to pass through Utrecht, the States of that province not
without the prisoner's knowledge had addressed a letter to his
Excellency, requesting him not to pass through their city. He had written
a letter to Ledenberg suggesting that good watch should be held at the
town gates and up and down the river Lek. He had desired that Ledenberg
having read that letter should burn it. He had interfered with the
cashiering of the mercenaries at Utrecht. He had said that such
cashiering without the consent of the States of that province was an act
of force which would justify resistance by force.

Although those States had sent commissioners to concert measures with the
Prince for that purpose, he had advised them to conceal their
instructions until his own plan for the disbandment could be carried out.
At a secret meeting in the house of Tresel, clerk of the States-General,
between Grotius, Hoogerbeets, and other accomplices, it was decided that
this advice should be taken. Report accordingly was made to the prisoner.
He had advised them to continue in their opposition to the National
Synod.

He had sought to calumniate and blacken his Excellency by saying that he
aspired to the sovereignty of the Provinces. He had received intelligence
on that subject from abroad in ciphered letters.

He had of his own accord rejected a certain proposed, notable alliance of
the utmost importance to this Republic.

   [This refers, I think without doubt, to the conversation between
   King James and Caron at the end of the year 1815.]

He had received from foreign potentates various large sums of money and
other presents.

All "these proceedings tended to put the city of Utrecht into a
blood-bath, and likewise to bring the whole country, and the person of
his Excellency into the uttermost danger."

This is the substance of the sentence, amplified by repetitions and
exasperating tautology into thirty or forty pages.

It will have been perceived by our analysis of Barneveld's answers to the
commissioners that all the graver charges which he was now said to have
confessed had been indignantly denied by him or triumphantly justified.

It will also be observed that he was condemned for no categorical
crime--lese-majesty, treason, or rebellion. The commissioners never
ventured to assert that the States-General were sovereign, or that the
central government had a right to prescribe a religious formulary for all
the United Provinces. They never dared to say that the prisoner had been
in communication with the enemy or had received bribes from him.

Of insinuation and implication there was much, of assertion very little,
of demonstration nothing whatever.

But supposing that all the charges had been admitted or proved, what
course would naturally be taken in consequence? How was a statesman who
adhered to the political, constitutional, and religious opinions on which
he had acted, with the general acquiescence, during a career of more than
forty years, but which were said to be no longer in accordance with
public opinion, to be dealt with? Would the commissioners request him to
retire honourably from the high functions which he had over and over
again offered to resign? Would they consider that, having fairly
impeached and found him guilty of disturbing the public peace by
continuing to act on his well-known legal theories, they might deprive
him summarily of power and declare him incapable of holding office again?

The conclusion of the commissioners was somewhat more severe than either
of these measures. Their long rambling preamble ended with these decisive
words:

"Therefore the judges, in name of the Lords States-General, condemn the
prisoner to be taken to the Binnenhof, there to be executed with the
sword that death may follow, and they declare all his property
confiscated."

The execution was to take place so soon as the sentence had been read to
the prisoner.

After the 1st of May Barneveld had not appeared before his judges. He had
been examined in all about sixty times.

In the beginning of May his servant became impatient. "You must not be
impatient," said his master. "The time seems much longer because we get
no news now from the outside. But the end will soon come. This delay
cannot last for ever."

Intimation reached him on Saturday the 11th May that the sentence was
ready and would soon be pronounced.

"It is a bitter folk," said Barneveld as he went to bed. "I have nothing
good to expect of them." Next day was occupied in sewing up and
concealing his papers, including a long account of his examination, with
the questions and answers, in his Spanish arm-chair. Next day van der
Meulen said to the servant, "I will bet you a hundred florins that you'll
not be here next Thursday."

The faithful John was delighted, not dreaming of the impending result.

It was Sunday afternoon, 12th May, and about half past five o'clock.
Barneveld sat in his prison chamber, occupied as usual in writing,
reviewing the history of the past, and doing his best to reduce into
something like order the rambling and miscellaneous interrogatories, out
of which his trial had been concocted, while the points dwelt in his
memory, and to draw up a concluding argument in his own defence. Work
which according to any equitable, reasonable, or even decent procedure
should have been entrusted to the first lawyers of the country--preparing
the case upon the law and the facts with the documents before them, with
the power of cross-questioning witnesses and sifting evidence, and
enlightened by constant conferences with the illustrious prisoner
himself--came entirely upon his own shoulders, enfeebled as he was by
age, physical illness, and by the exhaustion of along imprisonment.
Without books, notes of evidence, or even copies of the charges of which
he stood accused, he was obliged to draw up his counter-arguments against
the impeachment and then by aid of a faithful valet to conceal his
manuscript behind the tapestry of the chamber, or cause them to be sewed
up in the lining of his easy-chair, lest they should be taken from him by
order of the judges who sat in the chamber below.

While he was thus occupied in preparations for his next encounter with
the tribunal, the door opened, and three gentlemen entered. Two were the
prosecuting officers of the government, Fiscal Sylla and Fiscal van
Leeuwen. The other was the provost-marshal, Carel de Nijs. The servant
was directed to leave the room.

Barneveld had stepped into his dressing-room on hearing footsteps, but
came out again with his long furred gown about him as the three entered.
He greeted them courteously and remained standing, with his hands placed
on the back of his chair and with one knee resting carelessly against the
arm of it. Van Leeuwen asked him if he would not rather be seated, as
they brought a communication from the judges. He answered in the
negative. Von Leeuwen then informed him that he was summoned to appear
before the judges the next morning to hear his sentence of death.

"The sentence of death!" he exclaimed, without in the least changing his
position; "the sentence of death! the sentence of death!" saying the
words over thrice, with an air of astonishment rather than of horror. "I
never expected that! I thought they were going to hear my defence again.
I had intended to make some change in my previous statements, having set
some things down when beside myself with choler."

He then made reference to his long services. Van Leeuwen expressed
himself as well acquainted with them. "He was sorry," he said, "that his
lordship took this message ill of him."

"I do not take it ill of you," said Barneveld, "but let them," meaning
the judges, "see how they will answer it before God. Are they thus to
deal with a true patriot? Let me have pen, ink, and paper, that for the
last time I may write farewell to my wife."

"I will go ask permission of the judges," said van Leenwen, "and I cannot
think that my lord's request will be refused."

While van Leeuwen was absent, the Advocate exclaimed, looking at the
other legal officer:

"Oh, Sylla, Sylla, if your father could only have seen to what uses they
would put you!"

Sylla was silent.

Permission to write the letter was soon received from de Voogt, president
of the commission. Pen, ink, and paper were brought, and the prisoner
calmly sat down to write, without the slightest trace of discomposure
upon his countenance or in any of his movements.

While he was writing, Sylla said with some authority, "Beware, my lord,
what you write, lest you put down something which may furnish cause for
not delivering the letter."

Barneveld paused in his writing, took the glasses from his eyes, and
looked Sylla in the face.

"Well, Sylla," he said very calmly, "will you in these my last moments
lay down the law to me as to what I shall write to my wife?"

He then added with a half-smile, "Well, what is expected of me?"

"We have no commission whatever to lay down the law," said van Leeuwen.
"Your worship will write whatever you like."

While he was writing, Anthony Walaeus came in, a preacher and professor
of Middelburg, a deputy to the Synod of Dordtrecht, a learned and amiable
man, sent by the States-General to minister to the prisoner on this
supreme occasion; and not unworthy to be thus selected.

The Advocate, not knowing him, asked him why he came.

"I am not here without commission," said the clergyman. "I come to
console my lord in his tribulation."

"I am a man," said Barneveld; "have come to my present age, and I know
how to console myself. I must write, and have now other things to do."

The preacher said that he would withdraw and return when his worship was
at leisure.

"Do as you like," said the Advocate, calmly going on with his writing.

When the letter was finished, it was sent to the judges for their
inspection, by whom it was at once forwarded to the family mansion in the
Voorhout, hardly a stone's throw from the prison chamber.

Thus it ran:

"Very dearly beloved wife, children, sons-in-law, and grandchildren, I
greet you altogether most affectionately. I receive at this moment the
very heavy and sorrowful tidings that I, an old man, for all my services
done well and faithfully to the Fatherland for so many years (after
having performed all respectful and friendly offices to his Excellency
the Prince with upright affection so far as my official duty and vocation
would permit, shown friendship to many people of all sorts, and wittingly
injured no man), must prepare myself to die to-morrow.

"I console myself in God the Lord, who knows all hearts, and who will
judge all men. I beg you all together to do the same. I have steadily and
faithfully served My Lords the States of Holland and their nobles and
cities. To the States of Utrecht as sovereigns of my own Fatherland I
have imparted at their request upright and faithful counsel, in order to
save them from tumults of the populace, and from the bloodshed with which
they had so long been threatened. I had the same views for the cities of
Holland in order that every one might be protected and no one injured.

"Live together in love and peace. Pray for me to Almighty God, who will
graciously hold us all in His holy keeping.

"From my chamber of sorrow, the 12th May 1619.

"Your very dear husband, father, father-in-law, and grandfather,

                  "JOHN OF BARNEVELD."

It was thought strange that the judges should permit so simple and clear
a statement, an argument in itself, to be forwarded. The theory of his
condemnation was to rest before the public on his confessions of guilt,
and here in the instant of learning the nature of the sentence in a few
hours to be pronounced upon him he had in a few telling periods declared
his entire innocence. Nevertheless the letter had been sent at once to
its address.

So soon as this sad business had been disposed of, Anthony Walaeus
returned. The Advocate apologized to the preacher for his somewhat abrupt
greeting on his first appearance. He was much occupied and did not know
him, he said, although he had often heard of him. He begged him, as well
as the provost-marshal, to join him at supper, which was soon brought.

Barneveld ate with his usual appetite, conversed cheerfully on various
topics, and pledged the health of each of his guests in a glass of beer.
Contrary to his wont he drank at that repast no wine. After supper he
went out into the little ante-chamber and called his servant, asking him
how he had been faring. Now John Franken had just heard with grief
unspeakable the melancholy news of his master's condemnation from two
soldiers of the guard, who had been sent by the judges to keep additional
watch over the prisoner. He was however as great a stoic as his master,
and with no outward and superfluous manifestations of woe had simply
implored the captain-at-arms, van der Meulen, to intercede with the
judges that he might be allowed to stay with his lord to the last.
Meantime he had been expressly informed that he was to say nothing to the
Advocate in secret, and that his master was not to speak to him in a low
tone nor whisper in his ear.

When the Advocate came out into the ante-chamber and looking over his
shoulder saw the two soldiers he at once lowered his voice.

"Hush-speak low," he whispered; "this is too cruel." John then informed
him of van der Meulen's orders, and that the soldiers had also been
instructed to look to it sharply that no word was exchanged between
master and man except in a loud voice.

"Is it possible," said the Advocate, "that so close an inspection is held
over me in these last hours? Can I not speak a word or two in freedom?
This is a needless mark of disrespect."

The soldiers begged him not to take their conduct amiss as they were
obliged strictly to obey orders.

He returned to his chamber, sat down in his chair, and begged Walaeus to
go on his behalf to Prince Maurice.

"Tell his Excellency," said he, "that I have always served him with
upright affection so far as my office, duties, and principles permitted.
If I, in the discharge of my oath and official functions, have ever done
anything contrary to his views, I hope that he will forgive it, and that
he will hold my children in his gracious favour."

It was then ten o'clock. The preacher went downstairs and crossed the
courtyard to the Stadholder's apartments, where he at once gained
admittance.

Maurice heard the message with tears in his eyes, assuring Walaeus that
he felt deeply for the Advocate's misfortunes. He had always had much
affection for him, he said, and had often warned him against his mistaken
courses. Two things, however, had always excited his indignation. One was
that Barneveld had accused him of aspiring to sovereignty. The other that
he had placed him in such danger at Utrecht. Yet he forgave him all. As
regarded his sons, so long as they behaved themselves well they might
rely on his favour.

As Walaeus was about to leave the apartment, the Prince called him back.

"Did he say anything of a pardon?" he asked, with some eagerness.

"My Lord," answered the clergyman, "I cannot with truth say that I
understood him to make any allusion to it."

Walaeus returned immediately to the prison chamber and made his report of
the interview. He was unwilling however to state the particulars of the
offence which Maurice declared himself to have taken at the acts of the
Advocate.

But as the prisoner insisted upon knowing, the clergyman repeated the
whole conversation.

"His Excellency has been deceived in regard to the Utrecht business,"
said Barneveld, "especially as to one point. But it is true that I had
fear and apprehension that he aspired to the sovereignty or to more
authority in the country. Ever since the year 1600 I have felt this fear
and have tried that these apprehensions might be rightly understood."

While Walaeus had been absent, the Reverend Jean la Motte (or Lamotius)
and another clergyman of the Hague had come to the prisoner's apartment.
La Motte could not look upon the Advocate's face without weeping, but the
others were more collected. Conversation now ensued among the four; the
preachers wishing to turn the doomed statesman's thought to the
consolations of religion.

But it was characteristic of the old lawyer's frame of mind that even now
he looked at the tragical position in which he found himself from a
constitutional and controversial point of view. He was perfectly calm and
undaunted at the awful fate so suddenly and unexpectedly opened before
his eyes, but he was indignant at what he esteemed the ignorance,
injustice, and stupidity of the sentence to be pronounced against him.

"I am ready enough to die," he said to the three clergymen, "but I cannot
comprehend why I am to die. I have done nothing except in obedience to
the laws and privileges of the land and according to my oath, honour, and
conscience."

"These judges," he continued, "come in a time when other maxims prevail
in the State than those of my day. They have no right therefore to sit in
judgment upon me."

The clergymen replied that the twenty-four judges who had tried the case
were no children and were conscientious men; that it was no small thing
to condemn a man, and that they would have to answer it before the
Supreme Judge of all.

"I console myself," he answered, "in the Lord my God, who knows all
hearts and shall judge all men. God is just.

"They have not dealt with me," he continued, "as according to law and
justice they were bound to deal. They have taken away from me my own
sovereign lords and masters and deposed them. To them alone I was
responsible. In their place they have put many of my enemies who were
never before in the government, and almost all of whom are young men who
have not seen much or read much. I have seen and read much, and know that
from such examples no good can follow. After my death they will learn for
the first time what governing means."

"The twenty-four judges are nearly all of them my enemies. What they have
reproached me with, I have been obliged to hear. I have appealed against
these judges, but it has been of no avail. They have examined me in
piecemeal, not in statesmanlike fashion. The proceedings against me have
been much too hard. I have frequently requested to see the notes of my
examination as it proceeded, and to confer upon it with aid and counsel
of friends, as would be the case in all lands governed by law. The
request was refused. During this long and wearisome affliction and misery
I have not once been allowed to speak to my wife and children. These are
indecent proceedings against a man seventy-two years of age, who has
served his country faithfully for three-and-forty years. I bore arms with
the volunteers at my own charges at the siege of Haarlem and barely
escaped with life."

It was not unnatural that the aged statesman's thoughts should revert in
this supreme moment to the heroic scenes in which he had been an actor
almost a half-century before. He could not but think with bitterness of
those long past but never forgotten days when he, with other patriotic
youths, had faced the terrible legions of Alva in defence of the
Fatherland, at a time when the men who were now dooming him to a
traitor's death were unborn, and who, but for his labours, courage,
wisdom, and sacrifices, might have never had a Fatherland to serve, or a
judgment-seat on which to pronounce his condemnation.

Not in a spirit of fretfulness, but with disdainful calm, he criticised
and censured the proceedings against himself as a violation of the laws
of the land and of the first principles of justice, discussing them as
lucidly and steadily as if they had been against a third person.

The preachers listened, but had nothing to say. They knew not of such
matters, they said, and had no instructions to speak of them. They had
been sent to call him to repentance for his open and hidden sins and to
offer the consolations of religion.

"I know that very well," he said, "but I too have something to say
notwithstanding." The conversation then turned upon religious topics, and
the preachers spoke of predestination.

"I have never been able to believe in the matter of high predestination,"
said the Advocate. "I have left it in the hands of God the Lord. I hold
that a good Christian man must believe that he through God's grace and by
the expiation of his sin through our Redeemer Jesus Christ is predestined
to be saved, and that this belief in his salvation, founded alone on
God's grace and the merits of our Redeemer Jesus Christ, comes to him
through the same grace of God. And if he falls into great sins, his firm
hope and confidence must be that the Lord God will not allow him to
continue in them, but that, through prayer for grace and repentance, he
will be converted from evil and remain in the faith to the end of his
life."

These feelings, he said, he had expressed fifty-two years before to three
eminent professors of theology in whom he confided, and they had assured
him that he might tranquilly continue in such belief without examining
further. "And this has always been my creed," he said.

The preachers replied that faith is a gift of God and not given to all
men, that it must be given out of heaven to a man before he could be
saved. Hereupon they began to dispute, and the Advocate spoke so
earnestly and well that the clergymen were astonished and sat for a time
listening to him in silence.

He asked afterwards about the Synod, and was informed that its decrees
had not yet been promulgated, but that the Remonstrants had been
condemned.

"It is a pity," said he. "One is trying to act on the old Papal system,
but it will never do. Things have gone too far. As to the Synod, if My
Lords the States of Holland had been heeded there would have been first a
provincial synod and then a national one."--"But," he added, looking the
preachers in the face, "had you been more gentle with each other, matters
would not have taken so high a turn. But you have been too fierce one
against the other, too full of bitter party spirit."

They replied that it was impossible for them to act against their
conscience and the supreme authority. And then they asked him if there
was nothing that troubled him in, his conscience in the matters for which
he must die; nothing for which he repented and sorrowed, and for which he
would call upon God for mercy.

"This I know well," he said, "that I have never willingly done wrong to
any man. People have been ransacking my letters to Caron--confidential
ones written several years ago to an old friend when I was troubled and
seeking for counsel and consolation. It is hard that matter of
impeachment against me to-day should be sought for thus."

And then he fell into political discourse again on the subject of the
Waartgelders and the State rights, and the villainous pasquils and libels
that had circulated so long through the country.

"I have sometimes spoken hastily, I confess," he said; "but that was when
I was stung by the daily swarm of infamous and loathsome pamphlets,
especially those directed against my sovereign masters the States of
Holland. That I could not bear. Old men cannot well brush such things
aside. All that was directly aimed at me in particular I endeavoured to
overcome with such patience as I could muster. The disunion and mutual
enmity in the country have wounded me to the heart. I have made use of
all means in my power to accommodate matters, to effect with all
gentleness a mutual reconciliation. I have always felt a fear lest the
enemy should make use of our internal dissensions to strike a blow
against us. I can say with perfect truth that ever since the year '77 I
have been as resolutely and unchangeably opposed to the Spaniards and
their adherents, and their pretensions over these Provinces, as any man
in the world, no one excepted, and as ready to sacrifice property and
shed my blood in defence of the Fatherland. I have been so devoted to the
service of the country that I have not been able to take the necessary
care of my own private affairs."

So spoke the great statesman in the seclusion of his prison, in the
presence of those clergymen whom he respected, at a supreme moment, when,
if ever, a man might be expected to tell the truth. And his whole life
which belonged to history, and had been passed on the world's stage
before the eyes of two generations of spectators, was a demonstration of
the truth of his words.

But Burgomaster van Berk knew better. Had he not informed the twenty-four
commissioners that, twelve years before, the Advocate wished to subject
the country to Spain, and that Spinola had drawn a bill of exchange for
100,000 ducats as a compensation for his efforts?

It was eleven o'clock. Barneveld requested one of the brethren to say an
evening prayer. This was done by La Motte, and they were then requested
to return by three or four o'clock next morning. They had been directed,
they said, to remain with him all night. "That is unnecessary," said the
Advocate, and they retired.

His servant then helped his master to undress, and he went to bed as
usual. Taking off his signet-ring, he gave it to John Franken.

"For my eldest son," he said.

The valet sat down at the head of his bed in order that his master might
speak to him before he slept. But the soldiers ordered him away and
compelled him to sit in a distant part of the room.

An hour after midnight, the Advocate having been unable to lose himself,
his servant observed that Isaac, one of the soldiers, was fast asleep. He
begged the other, Tilman Schenk by name, to permit him some private words
with his master. He had probably last messages, he thought, to send to
his wife and children, and the eldest son, M. de Groeneveld, would no
doubt reward him well for it. But the soldier was obstinate in obedience
to the orders of the judges.

Barneveld, finding it impossible to sleep, asked his servant to read to
him from the Prayer-book. The soldier called in a clergyman however,
another one named Hugo Bayerus, who had been sent to the prison, and who
now read to him the Consolations of the Sick. As he read, he made
exhortations and expositions, which led to animated discussion, in which
the Advocate expressed himself with so much fervour and eloquence that
all present were astonished, and the preacher sat mute a half-hour long
at the bed-side.

"Had there been ten clergymen," said the simple-hearted sentry to the
valet, "your master would have enough to say to all of them."

Barneveld asked where the place had been prepared in which he was to die.

"In front of the great hall, as I understand," said Bayerus, "but I don't
know the localities well, having lived here but little."

"Have you heard whether my Grotius is to die, and Hoogerbeets also?" he
asked?

"I have heard nothing to that effect," replied the clergyman.

"I should most deeply grieve for those two gentlemen," said Barneveld,
"were that the case. They may yet live to do the land great service. That
great rising light, de Groot, is still young, but a very wise and learned
gentleman, devoted to his Fatherland with all zeal, heart, and soul, and
ready to stand up for her privileges, laws, and rights. As for me, I am
an old and worn-out man. I can do no more. I have already done more than
I was really able to do. I have worked so zealously in public matters
that I have neglected my private business. I had expressly ordered my
house at Loosduinen" [a villa by the seaside] "to be got ready, that I
might establish myself there and put my affairs in order. I have
repeatedly asked the States of Holland for my discharge, but could never
obtain it. It seems that the Almighty had otherwise disposed of me."

He then said he would try once more if he could sleep. The clergyman and
the servant withdrew for an hour, but his attempt was unsuccessful. After
an hour he called for his French Psalm Book and read in it for some time.
Sometime after two o'clock the clergymen came in again and conversed with
him. They asked him if he had slept, if he hoped to meet Christ, and if
there was anything that troubled his conscience.

"I have not slept, but am perfectly tranquil," he replied. "I am ready to
die, but cannot comprehend why I must die. I wish from my heart that,
through my death and my blood, all disunion and discord in this land may
cease."

He bade them carry his last greetings to his fellow prisoners. "Say
farewell for me to my good Grotius," said he, "and tell him that I must
die."

The clergymen then left him, intending to return between five and six
o'clock.

He remained quiet for a little while and then ordered his valet to cut
open the front of his shirt. When this was done, he said, "John, are you
to stay by me to the last?"

"Yes," he replied, "if the judges permit it."

"Remind me to send one of the clergymen to the judges with the request,"
said his master.

The faithful John, than whom no servant or friend could be more devoted,
seized the occasion, with the thrift and stoicism of a true Hollander, to
suggest that his lord might at the same time make some testamentary
disposition in his favour.

"Tell my wife and children," said the Advocate, "that they must console
each other in mutual love and union. Say that through God's grace I am
perfectly at ease, and hope that they will be equally tranquil. Tell my
children that I trust they will be loving and friendly to their mother
during the short time she has yet to live. Say that I wish to recommend
you to them that they may help you to a good situation either with
themselves or with others. Tell them that this was my last request."

He bade him further to communicate to the family the messages sent that
night through Walaeus by the Stadholder.

The valet begged his master to repeat these instructions in presence of
the clergyman, or to request one of them to convey them himself to the
family. He promised to do so.

"As long as I live," said the grateful servant, "I shall remember your
lordship in my prayers."

"No, John," said the Advocate, "that is Popish. When I am dead, it is all
over with prayers. Pray for me while I still live. Now is the time to
pray. When one is dead, one should no longer be prayed for."

La Motte came in. Barneveld repeated his last wishes exactly as he
desired them to be communicated to his wife and children. The preacher
made no response. "Will you take the message?" asked the prisoner. La
Motte nodded, but did not speak, nor did he subsequently fulfil the
request.

Before five o'clock the servant heard the bell ring in the apartment of
the judges directly below the prison chamber, and told his master he had
understood that they were to assemble at five o'clock.

"I may as well get up then," said the Advocate; "they mean to begin
early, I suppose. Give me my doublet and but one pair of stockings."

He was accustomed to wear two or three pair at a time.

He took off his underwaistcoat, saying that the silver bog which was in
one of the pockets was to be taken to his wife, and that the servant
should keep the loose money there for himself. Then he found an
opportunity to whisper to him, "Take good care of the papers which are in
the apartment." He meant the elaborate writings which he had prepared
during his imprisonment and concealed in the tapestry and within the
linings of the chair.

As his valet handed him the combs and brushes, he said with a smile,
"John, this is for the last time."

When he was dressed, he tried, in rehearsal of the approaching scene, to
pull over his eyes the silk skull-cap which he usually wore under his
hat. Finding it too tight he told the valet to put the nightcap in his
pocket and give it him when he should call for it. He then swallowed a
half-glass of wine with a strengthening cordial in it, which he was wont
to take.

The clergymen then re-entered, and asked if he had been able to sleep. He
answered no, but that he had been much consoled by many noble things
which he had been reading in the French Psalm Book. The clergymen said
that they had been thinking much of the beautiful confession of faith
which he had made to them that evening. They rejoiced at it, they said,
on his account, and had never thought it of him. He said that such had
always been his creed.

At his request Walaeus now offered a morning prayer Barneveld fell on his
knees and prayed inwardly without uttering a sound. La Motte asked when
he had concluded, "Did my Lord say Amen?"--"Yes, Lamotius," he replied;
"Amen."--"Has either of the brethren," he added, "prepared a prayer to be
offered outside there?"

La Motte informed him that this duty had been confided to him. Some
passages from Isaiah were now read aloud, and soon afterwards Walaeus was
sent for to speak with the judges. He came back and said to the prisoner,
"Has my Lord any desire to speak with his wife or children, or any of his
friends?" It was then six o'clock, and Barneveld replied:

"No, the time is drawing near. It would excite a new emotion." Walaeus
went back to the judges with this answer, who thereupon made this
official report:

"The husband and father of the petitioners, being asked if he desired
that any of the petitioners should come to him, declared that he did not
approve of it, saying that it would cause too great an emotion for
himself as well as for them. This is to serve as an answer to the
petitioners."

Now the Advocate knew nothing of the petition. Up to the last moment his
family had been sanguine as to his ultimate acquittal and release. They
relied on a promise which they had received or imagined that they had
received from the Stadholder that no harm should come to the prisoner in
consequence of the arrest made of his person in the Prince's apartments
on the 8th of August. They had opened this tragical month of May with
flagstaffs and flower garlands, and were making daily preparations to
receive back the revered statesman in triumph.

The letter written by him from his "chamber of sorrow," late in the
evening of 12th May, had at last dispelled every illusion. It would be
idle to attempt to paint the grief and consternation into which the
household in the Voorhout was plunged, from the venerable dame at its
head, surrounded by her sons and daughters and children's children, down
to the humblest servant in their employment. For all revered and loved
the austere statesman, but simple and benignant father and master.

No heed had been taken of the three elaborate and argumentative petitions
which, prepared by learned counsel in name of the relatives, had been
addressed to the judges. They had not been answered because they were
difficult to answer, and because it was not intended that the accused
should have the benefit of counsel.

An urgent and last appeal was now written late at night, and signed by
each member of the family, to his Excellency the Prince and the judge
commissioners, to this effect:

"The afflicted wife and children of M. van Barneveld humbly show that
having heard the sorrowful tidings of his coming execution, they humbly
beg that it may be granted them to see and speak to him for the last
time."

The two sons delivered this petition at four o'clock in the morning into
the hands of de Voogd, one of the judges. It was duly laid before the
commission, but the prisoner was never informed, when declining a last
interview with his family, how urgently they had themselves solicited the
boon.

Louise de Coligny, on hearing late at night the awful news, had been
struck with grief and horror. She endeavoured, late as it was, to do
something to avert the doom of one she so much revered, the man on whom
her illustrious husband had leaned his life long as on a staff of iron.
She besought an interview of the Stadholder, but it was refused. The wife
of William the Silent had no influence at that dire moment with her
stepson. She was informed at first that Maurice was asleep, and at four
in the morning that all intervention was useless.

The faithful and energetic du Maurier, who had already exhausted himself
in efforts to save the life of the great prisoner, now made a last
appeal. He, too, heard at four o'clock in the morning of the 13th that
sentence of death was to be pronounced. Before five o'clock he made
urgent application to be heard before the Assembly of the States-General
as ambassador of a friendly sovereign who took the deepest interest in
the welfare of the Republic and the fate of its illustrious statesman.
The appeal was refused. As a last resource he drew up an earnest and
eloquent letter to the States-General, urging clemency in the name of his
king. It was of no avail. The letter may still be seen in the Royal
Archives at the Hague, drawn up entirely in du Maurier's clear and
beautiful handwriting. Although possibly a first draft, written as it
was under such a mortal pressure for time, its pages have not one erasure
or correction.

It was seven o'clock. Barneveld having observed by the preacher (La
Motte's) manner that he was not likely to convey the last messages which
he had mentioned to his wife and children, sent a request to the judges
to be allowed to write one more letter. Captain van der Meulen came back
with the permission, saying he would wait and take it to the judges for
their revision.

The letter has been often published.

"Must they see this too? Why, it is only a line in favour of John," said
the prisoner, sitting quietly down to write this letter:

"Very dear wife and children, it is going to an end with me. I am,
through the grace of God, very tranquil. I hope that you are equally so,
and that you may by mutual love, union, and peace help each other to
overcome all things, which I pray to the Omnipotent as my last request.
John Franken has served me faithfully for many years and throughout all
these my afflictions, and is to remain with me to the end. He deserves to
be recommended to you and to be furthered to good employments with you or
with others. I request you herewith to see to this.

"I have requested his Princely Excellency to hold my sons and children in
his favour, to which he has answered that so long as you conduct
yourselves well this shall be the case. I recommend this to you in the
best form and give you all into God's holy keeping. Kiss each other and
all my grandchildren, for the last time in my name, and fare you well.
Out of the chamber of sorrow, 13th May 1619. Your dear husband and
father,
                  JOHN OF BARNEVELD.

"P.S. You will make John Franken a present in memory of me."

Certainly it would be difficult to find a more truly calm, courageous, or
religious spirit than that manifested by this aged statesman at an hour
when, if ever, a human soul is tried and is apt to reveal its innermost
depths or shallows. Whatever Gomarus or Bogerman, or the whole Council of
Dordtrecht, may have thought of his theology, it had at least taught him
forgiveness of his enemies, kindness to his friends, and submission to
the will of the Omnipotent. Every moment of his last days on earth had
been watched and jealously scrutinized, and his bitterest enemies had
failed to discover one trace of frailty, one manifestation of any
vacillating, ignoble, or malignant sentiment.

The drums had been sounding through the quiet but anxiously expectant
town since four o'clock that morning, and the tramp of soldiers marching
to the Inner Court had long been audible in the prison chamber.

Walaeus now came back with a message from the judges. "The high
commissioners," he said, "think it is beginning. Will my Lord please to
prepare himself?"

"Very well, very well," said the prisoner. "Shall we go at once?"

But Walaeus suggested a prayer. Upon its conclusion, Barneveld gave his
hand to the provost-marshal and to the two soldiers, bidding them adieu,
and walked downstairs, attended by them, to the chamber of the judges. As
soon as he appeared at the door, he was informed that there had been a
misunderstanding, and he was requested to wait a little. He accordingly
went upstairs again with perfect calmness, sat down in his chamber again,
and read in his French Psalm Book. Half an hour later he was once more
summoned, the provost-marshal and Captain van der Meulen reappearing to
escort him. "Mr. Provost," said the prisoner, as they went down the
narrow staircase, "I have always been a good friend to you."--"It is
true," replied that officer, "and most deeply do I grieve to see you in
this affliction."

He was about to enter the judges' chamber as usual, but was informed that
the sentence would be read in the great hall of judicature. They
descended accordingly to the basement story, and passed down the narrow
flight of steps which then as now connected the more modern structure,
where the Advocate had been imprisoned and tried, with what remained of
the ancient palace of the Counts of Holland. In the centre of the vast
hall--once the banqueting chamber of those petty sovereigns; with its
high vaulted roof of cedar which had so often in ancient days rung with
the sounds of mirth and revelry--was a great table at which the
twenty-four judges and the three prosecuting officers were seated, in
their black caps and gowns of office. The room was lined with soldiers
and crowded with a dark, surging mass of spectators, who had been waiting
there all night.

A chair was placed for the prisoner. He sat down, and the clerk of the
commission, Pots by name, proceeded at once to read the sentence. A
summary of this long, rambling, and tiresome paper has been already laid
before the reader. If ever a man could have found it tedious to listen to
his own death sentence, the great statesman might have been in that
condition as he listened to Secretary Pots.

During the reading of the sentence the Advocate moved uneasily on his
seat, and seemed about to interrupt the clerk at several passages which
seemed to him especially preposterous. But he controlled himself by a
strong effort, and the clerk went steadily on to the conclusion.

Then Barneveld said:

"The judges have put down many things which they have no right to draw
from my confession. Let this protest be added."

"I thought too," he continued, "that My Lords the States-General would
have had enough in my life and blood, and that my wife and children might
keep what belongs to them. Is this my recompense for forty-three years'
service to these Provinces?"

President de Voogd rose:

"Your sentence has been pronounced," he said. "Away! away!" So saying he
pointed to the door into which one of the great windows at the
south-eastern front of the hall had been converted.

Without another word the old man rose from his chair and strode, leaning
on his staff, across the hall, accompanied by his faithful valet and the
provost and escorted by a file of soldiers. The mob of spectators flowed
out after him at every door into the inner courtyard in front of the
ancient palace.

     ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

     Better to be governed by magistrates than mobs
     Burning with bitter revenge for all the favours he had received
     Death rather than life with a false acknowledgment of guilt
     Enemy of all compulsion of the human conscience
     Heidelberg Catechism were declared to be infallible
     I know how to console myself
     Implication there was much, of assertion very little
     John Robinson
     Magistracy at that moment seemed to mean the sword
     Only true religion
     Rather a wilderness to reign over than a single heretic
     William Brewster




THE LIFE AND DEATH of JOHN OF BARNEVELD, ADVOCATE OF HOLLAND

WITH A VIEW OF THE PRIMARY CAUSES AND MOVEMENTS OF THE THIRTY YEARS' WAR

By John Lothrop Motley, D.C.L., LL.D.

Life and Death of John of Barneveld, v11, 1619-23




CHAPTER XXI.

   Barneveld's Execution--The Advocate's Conduct on the Scaffold--The
   Sentence printed and sent to the Provinces--The Proceedings
   irregular and inequitable.

In the beautiful village capital of the "Count's Park," commonly called
the Hague, the most striking and picturesque spot then as now was that
where the transformed remains of the old moated castle of those feudal
sovereigns were still to be seen. A three-storied range of simple,
substantial buildings in brown brickwork, picked out with white stone in
a style since made familiar both in England and America, and associated
with a somewhat later epoch in the history of the House of Orange,
surrounded three sides of a spacious inner paved quadrangle called the
Inner Court, the fourth or eastern side being overshadowed by a beechen
grove. A square tower flanked each angle, and on both sides of the
south-western turret extended the commodious apartments of the
Stadholder. The great gateway on the south-west opened into a wide open
space called the Outer Courtyard. Along the north-west side a broad and
beautiful sheet of water, in which the walls, turrets, and chapel-spires
of the enclosed castle mirrored themselves, was spread between the mass
of buildings and an umbrageous promenade called the Vyverberg, consisting
of a sextuple alley of lime-trees and embowering here and there a stately
villa. A small island, fringed with weeping willows and tufted all over
with lilacs, laburnums, and other shrubs then in full flower, lay in the
centre of the miniature lake, and the tall solid tower of the Great
Church, surmounted by a light openwork spire, looked down from a little
distance over the scene.

It was a bright morning in May. The white swans were sailing tranquilly
to and fro over the silver basin, and the mavis, blackbird, and
nightingale, which haunted the groves surrounding the castle and the
town, were singing as if the daybreak were ushering in a summer festival.

But it was not to a merry-making that the soldiers were marching and the
citizens thronging so eagerly from every street and alley towards the
castle. By four o'clock the Outer and Inner Courts had been lined with
detachments of the Prince's guard and companies of other regiments to the
number of 1200 men. Occupying the north-eastern side of the court rose
the grim, time-worn front of the ancient hall, consisting of one tall
pyramidal gable of ancient grey brickwork flanked with two tall slender
towers, the whole with the lancet-shaped windows and severe style of the
twelfth century, excepting a rose-window in the centre with the decorated
mullions of a somewhat later period.

In front of the lower window, with its Gothic archway hastily converted
into a door, a shapeless platform of rough, unhewn planks had that night
been rudely patched together. This was the scaffold. A slight railing
around it served to protect it from the crowd, and a heap of coarse sand
had been thrown upon it. A squalid, unclean box of unplaned boards,
originally prepared as a coffin for a Frenchman who some time before had
been condemned to death for murdering the son of Goswyn Meurskens, a
Hague tavern-keeper, but pardoned by the Stadholder--lay on the scaffold.
It was recognized from having been left for a long time, half forgotten,
at the public execution-place of the Hague.

Upon this coffin now sat two common soldiers of ruffianly aspect playing
at dice, betting whether the Lord or the Devil would get the soul of
Barneveld. Many a foul and ribald jest at the expense of the prisoner was
exchanged between these gamblers, some of their comrades, and a few
townsmen, who were grouped about at that early hour. The horrible libels,
caricatures, and calumnies which had been circulated, exhibited, and sung
in all the streets for so many months had at last thoroughly poisoned the
minds of the vulgar against the fallen statesman.

The great mass of the spectators had forced their way by daybreak into
the hall itself to hear the sentence, so that the Inner Courtyard had
remained comparatively empty.

At last, at half past nine o'clock, a shout arose, "There he comes! there
he comes!" and the populace flowed out from the hall of judgment into the
courtyard like a tidal wave.

In an instant the Binnenhof was filled with more than three thousand
spectators.

The old statesman, leaning on his staff, walked out upon the scaffold and
calmly surveyed the scene. Lifting his eyes to Heaven, he was heard to
murmur, "O God! what does man come to!" Then he said bitterly once more:
"This, then, is the reward of forty years' service to the State!"

La Motte, who attended him, said fervently: "It is no longer time to
think of this. Let us prepare your coming before God."

"Is there no cushion or stool to kneel upon?" said Barneveld, looking
around him.

The provost said he would send for one, but the old man knelt at once on
the bare planks. His servant, who waited upon him as calmly and
composedly as if he had been serving him at dinner, held him by the arm.
It was remarked that neither master nor man, true stoics and Hollanders
both, shed a single tear upon the scaffold.

La Motte prayed for a quarter of an hour, the Advocate remaining on his
knees.

He then rose and said to John Franken, "See that he does not come near
me," pointing to the executioner who stood in the background grasping his
long double-handed sword. Barneveld then rapidly unbuttoned his doublet
with his own hands and the valet helped him off with it. "Make haste!
make haste!" said his master.

The statesman then came forward and said in a loud, firm voice to the
people:

"Men, do not believe that I am a traitor to the country. I have ever
acted uprightly and loyally as a good patriot, and as such I shall die."

The crowd was perfectly silent.

He then took his cap from John Franken, drew it over his eyes, and went
forward towards the sand, saying:

"Christ shall be my guide. O Lord, my heavenly Father, receive my
spirit."

As he was about to kneel with his face to the south, the provost said:

"My lord will be pleased to move to the other side, not where the sun is
in his face."

He knelt accordingly with his face towards his own house. The servant
took farewell of him, and Barneveld said to the executioner:

"Be quick about it. Be quick."

The executioner then struck his head off at a single blow.

Many persons from the crowd now sprang, in spite of all opposition, upon
the scaffold and dipped their handkerchiefs in his blood, cut wet
splinters from the boards, or grubbed up the sand that was steeped in it;
driving many bargains afterwards for these relics to be treasured, with
various feelings of sorrow, joy, glutted or expiated vengeance.

It has been recorded, and has been constantly repeated to this day, that
the Stadholder, whose windows exactly faced the scaffold, looked out upon
the execution with a spy-glass; saying as he did so:

"See the old scoundrel, how he trembles! He is afraid of the stroke."

But this is calumny. Colonel Hauterive declared that he was with Maurice
in his cabinet during the whole period of the execution, that by order of
the Prince all the windows and shutters were kept closed, that no person
wearing his livery was allowed to be abroad, that he anxiously received
messages as to the proceedings, and heard of the final catastrophe with
sorrowful emotion.

It must be admitted, however, that the letter which Maurice wrote on the
same morning to his cousin William Lewis does not show much pathos.

"After the judges," he said, "have been busy here with the sentence
against the Advocate Barneveld for several days, at last it has been
pronounced, and this morning, between nine o'clock and half past, carried
into execution with the sword, in the Binnenhof before the great hall.

"The reasons they had for this you will see from the sentence, which will
doubtless be printed, and which I will send you.

"The wife of the aforesaid Barneveld and also some of his sons and
sons-in-law or other friends have never presented any supplication for
his pardon, but till now have vehemently demanded that law and justice
should be done to him, and have daily let the report run through the
people that he would soon come out. They also planted a may-pole before
their house adorned with garlands and ribbands, and practised other
jollities and impertinences, while they ought to have conducted
themselves in a humble and lowly fashion. This is no proper manner of
behaving, and moreover not a practical one to move the judges to any
favour even if they had been thereto inclined."

The sentence was printed and sent to the separate provinces. It was
accompanied by a declaration of the States-General that they had received
information from the judges of various points, not mentioned in the
sentence, which had been laid to the charge of the late Advocate, and
which gave much reason to doubt whether he had not perhaps turned his
eyes toward the enemy. They could not however legally give judgment to
that effect without a sharper investigation, which on account of his
great age and for other reasons it was thought best to spare him.

A meaner or more malignant postscript to a state paper recounting the
issue of a great trial it would be difficult to imagine. The first
statesman of the country had just been condemned and executed on a
narrative, without indictment of any specified crime. And now, by a kind
of apologetic after-thought, six or eight individuals calling themselves
the States-General insinuated that he had been looking towards the enemy,
and that, had they not mercifully spared him the rack, which is all that
could be meant by their sharper investigation, he would probably have
confessed the charge.

And thus the dead man's fame was blackened by those who had not hesitated
to kill him, but had shrunk from enquiring into his alleged crime.

Not entirely without semblance of truth did Grotius subsequently say that
the men who had taken his life would hardly have abstained from torturing
him if they had really hoped by so doing to extract from him a confession
of treason.

The sentence was sent likewise to France, accompanied with a statement
that Barneveld had been guilty of unpardonable crimes which had not been
set down in the act of condemnation. Complaints were also made of the
conduct of du Maurier in thrusting himself into the internal affairs of
the States and taking sides so ostentatiously against the government. The
King and his ministers were indignant with these rebukes, and sustained
the Ambassador. Jeannin and de Boississe expressed the opinion that he
had died innocent of any crime, and only by reason of his strong
political opposition to the Prince.

The judges had been unanimous in finding him guilty of the acts recorded
in their narrative, but three of them had held out for some time in
favour of a sentence of perpetual imprisonment rather than decapitation.

They withdrew at last their opposition to the death penalty for the
wonderful reason that reports had been circulated of attempts likely to
be made to assassinate Prince Maurice. The Stadholder himself treated
these rumours and the consequent admonition of the States-General that he
would take more than usual precautions for his safety with perfect
indifference, but they were conclusive with the judges of Barneveld.

"Republica poscit exemplum," said Commissioner Junius, one of the three,
as he sided with the death-warrant party.

The same Doctor Junius a year afterwards happened to dine, in company of
one of his fellow-commissioners, with Attorney-General Sylla at Utrecht,
and took occasion to ask them why it was supposed that Barneveld had been
hanging his head towards Spain, as not one word of that stood in the
sentence.

The question was ingenuous on the part of one learned judge to his
colleagues in one of the most famous state trials of history, propounded
as a bit of after-dinner casuistry, when the victim had been more than a
year in his grave.

But perhaps the answer was still more artless. His brother lawyers
replied that the charge was easily to be deduced from the sentence,
because a man who breaks up the foundation of the State makes the country
indefensible, and therefore invites the enemy to invade it. And this
Barneveld had done, who had turned the Union, religion, alliances, and
finances upside down by his proceedings.

Certainly if every constitutional minister, accused by the opposition
party of turning things upside down by his proceedings, were assumed to
be guilty of deliberately inviting a hostile invasion of his country,
there would have been few from that day to this to escape hanging.

Constructive treason could scarcely go farther than it was made to do in
these attempts to prove, after his death, that the Advocate had, as it
was euphuistically expressed, been looking towards the enemy.

And no better demonstrations than these have ever been discovered.

He died at the age of seventy-one years seven months and eighteen days.

His body and head were huddled into the box upon which the soldiers had
been shaking the dice, and was placed that night in the vault of the
chapel in the Inner Court.

It was subsequently granted as a boon to the widow and children that it
might be taken thence and decently buried in the family vault at
Amersfoort.

On the day of the execution a formal entry was made in the register of
the States of Holland.

"Monday, 13th May 1619. To-day was executed with the sword here in the
Hague, on a scaffold thereto erected in the Binnenhof before the steps of
the great hall, Mr. John of Barneveld, in his life Knight, Lord of
Berkel, Rodenrys, &c., Advocate of Holland and West Friesland, for
reasons expressed in the sentence and otherwise, with confiscation of his
property, after he had served the State thirty-three years two months and
five days since 8th March 1586.; a man of great activity, business,
memory, and wisdom--yes, extraordinary in every respect. He that stands
let him see that he does not fall, and may God be merciful to his soul.
Amen?"

A year later-on application made by the widow and children of the
deceased to compound for the confiscation of his property by payment of a
certain sum, eighty florins or a similar trifle, according to an ancient
privilege of the order of nobility--the question was raised whether he
had been guilty of high-treason, as he had not been sentenced for such a
crime, and as it was only in case of sentence for lese-majesty that this
composition was disallowed. It was deemed proper therefore to ask the
court for what crime the prisoner had been condemned. Certainly a more
sarcastic question could not have been asked. But the court had ceased to
exist. The commission had done its work and was dissolved. Some of its
members were dead. Letters however were addressed by the States-General
to the individual commissioners requesting them to assemble at the Hague
for the purpose of stating whether it was because the prisoners had
committed lese-majesty that their property had been confiscated. They
never assembled. Some of them were perhaps ignorant of the exact nature
of that crime. Several of them did not understand the words. Twelve of
them, among whom were a few jurists, sent written answers to the
questions proposed. The question was, "Did you confiscate the property
because the crime was lese-majesty?" The reply was, "The crime was
lese-majesty, although not so stated in the sentence, because we
confiscated the property." In one of these remarkable documents this was
stated to be "the unanimous opinion of almost all the judges."

The point was referred to the commissioners, some of whom attended the
court of the Hague in person, while others sent written opinions. All
agreed that the criminal had committed high-treason because otherwise his
property would not have been confiscated.

A more wonderful example of the argument in a circle was never heard of.
Moreover it is difficult to understand by what right the high commission,
which had been dissolved a year before, after having completed its work,
could be deemed competent to emit afterwards a judicial decision. But the
fact is curious as giving one more proof of the irregular,
unphilosophical, and inequitable nature of these famous proceedings.




CHAPTER XXII.

   Grotius urged to ask Forgiveness--Grotius shows great Weakness--
   Hoogerbeets and Grotius imprisoned for Life--Grotius confined at
   Loevestein--Grotius' early Attainments--Grotius' Deportment in
   Prison--Escape of Grotius--Deventer's Rage at Grotius' Escape.

Two days after the execution of the Advocate, judgment was pronounced
upon Gillis van Ledenberg. It would have been difficult to try him, or to
extort a confession of high-treason from him by the rack or otherwise, as
the unfortunate gentleman had been dead for more than seven months.

Not often has a court of justice pronounced a man, without trial, to be
guilty of a capital offence. Not often has a dead man been condemned and
executed. But this was the lot of Secretary Ledenberg. He was sentenced
to be hanged, his property declared confiscated.

His unburied corpse, reduced to the condition of a mummy, was brought out
of its lurking-place, thrust into a coffin, dragged on a hurdle to the
Golgotha outside the Hague, on the road to Ryswyk, and there hung on a
gibbet in company of the bodies of other malefactors swinging there in
chains.

His prudent scheme to save his property for his children by committing
suicide in prison was thus thwarted.

The reading of the sentence of Ledenberg, as had been previously the case
with that of Barneveld, had been heard by Grotius through the open window
of his prison, as he lay on his bed. The scaffold on which the Advocate
had suffered was left standing, three executioners were still in the
town, and there was every reason for both Grotius and Hoogerbeets to
expect a similar doom. Great efforts were made to induce the friends of
the distinguished prisoners to sue for their pardon. But even as in the
case of the Barneveld family these attempts were fruitless. The austere
stoicism both on the part of the sufferers and their relatives excites
something like wonder.

Three of the judges went in person to the prison chamber of Hoogerbeets,
urging him to ask forgiveness himself or to allow his friends to demand
it for him.

"If my wife and children do ask," he said, "I will protest against it. I
need no pardon. Let justice take its course. Think not, gentlemen, that I
mean by asking for pardon to justify your proceedings."

He stoutly refused to do either. The judges, astonished, took their
departure, saying:

"Then you will fare as Barneveld. The scaffold is still standing."

He expected consequently nothing but death, and said many years
afterwards that he knew from personal experience how a man feels who goes
out of prison to be beheaded.

The wife of Grotius sternly replied to urgent intimations from a high
source that she should ask pardon for her husband, "I shall not do it. If
he has deserved it, let them strike off his head."

Yet no woman could be more devoted to her husband than was Maria van
Reigersbergen to Hugo de Groot, as time was to prove. The Prince
subsequently told her at a personal interview that "one of two roads must
be taken, that of the law or that of pardon."

Soon after the arrest it was rumoured that Grotius was ready to make
important revelations if he could first be assured of the Prince's
protection.

His friends were indignant at the statement. His wife stoutly denied its
truth, but, to make sure, wrote to her husband on the subject.

"One thing amazes me," she said; "some people here pretend to say that
you have stated to one gentleman in private that you have something to
disclose greatly important to the country, but that you desired
beforehand to be taken under the protection of his Excellency. I have not
chosen to believe this, nor do I, for I hold that to be certain which you
have already told me--that you know no secrets. I see no reason therefore
why you should require the protection of any man. And there is no one to
believe this, but I thought best to write to you of it. Let me, in order
that I may contradict the story with more authority, have by the bearer
of this a simple Yes or No. Study quietly, take care of your health, have
some days' patience, for the Advocate has not yet been heard."

The answer has not been preserved, but there is an allusion to the
subject in an unpublished memorandum of Grotius written while he was in
prison.

It must be confessed that the heart of the great theologian and jurist
seems to have somewhat failed him after his arrest, and although he was
incapable of treachery--even if he had been possessed of any secrets,
which certainly was not the case--he did not show the same Spartan
firmness as his wife, and was very far from possessing the heroic calm of
Barneveld. He was much disposed to extricate himself from his unhappy
plight by making humble, if not abject, submission to Maurice. He
differed from his wife in thinking that he had no need of the Prince's
protection. "I begged the Chamberlain, Matthew de Cors," he said, a few
days after his arrest, "that I might be allowed to speak with his
Excellency of certain things which I would not willingly trust to the
pen. My meaning was to leave all public employment and to offer my
service to his Excellency in his domestic affairs. Thus I hoped that the
motives for my imprisonment would cease. This was afterwards
misinterpreted as if I had had wonderful things to reveal."

But Grotius towards the end of his trial showed still greater weakness.
After repeated refusals, he had at last obtained permission of the judges
to draw up in writing the heads of his defence. To do this he was allowed
a single sheet of paper, and four hours of time, the trial having lasted
several months. And in the document thus prepared he showed faltering in
his faith as to his great friend's innocence, and admitted, without any
reason whatever, the possibility of there being truth in some of the vile
and anonymous calumnies against him.

"The friendship of the Advocate of Holland I had always highly prized,"
he said, "hoping from the conversation of so wise and experienced a
person to learn much that was good . . . . I firmly believed that his
Excellency, notwithstanding occasional differences as to the conduct of
public affairs, considered him a true and upright servant of the land
. . . . I have been therefore surprised to understand, during my
imprisonment, that the gentlemen had proofs in hand not alone of his
correspondence with the enemy, but also of his having received money
from them.

"He being thus accused, I have indicated by word of mouth and afterwards
resumed in writing all matters which I thought--the above-mentioned
proofs being made good--might be thereto indirectly referred, in order to
show that for me no friendships were so dear as the preservation of the
freedom of the land. I wish that he may give explanation of all to the
contentment of the judges, and that therefore his actions--which,
supposing the said correspondence to be true, are subject to a bad
interpretation--may be taken in another sense."

Alas! could the Advocate--among whose first words after hearing of his
own condemnation to death were, "And must my Grotius die too?" adding,
with a sigh of relief when assured of the contrary, "I should deeply
grieve for that; he is so young and may live to do the State much
service." could he have read those faltering and ungenerous words from one
he so held in his heart, he would have felt them like the stab of Brutus.

Grotius lived to know that there were no such proofs, that the judges did
not dare even allude to the charge in their sentence, and long years
afterwards he drew a picture of the martyred patriot such as one might
have expected from his pen.

But these written words of doubt must have haunted him to his grave.

On the 18th May 1619--on the fifty-first anniversary, as Grotius
remarked, of the condemnation of Egmont and Hoorn by the Blood Tribunal
of Alva--the two remaining victims were summoned to receive their doom.
The Fiscal Sylla, entering de Groot's chamber early in the morning to
conduct him before the judges, informed him that he was not instructed to
communicate the nature of the sentence. "But," he said, maliciously, "you
are aware of what has befallen the Advocate."

"I have heard with my own ears," answered Grotius, "the judgment
pronounced upon Barneveld and upon Ledenberg. Whatever may be my fate, I
have patience to bear it."

The sentence, read in the same place and in the same manner as had been
that upon the Advocate, condemned both Hoogerbeets and Grotius to
perpetual imprisonment.

The course of the trial and the enumeration of the offences were nearly
identical with the leading process which has been elaborately described.

Grotius made no remark whatever in the court-room. On returning to his
chamber he observed that his admissions of facts had been tortured into
confessions of guilt, that he had been tried and sentenced against all
principles and forms of law, and that he had been deprived of what the
humblest criminal could claim, the right of defence and the examination
of testimony. In regard to the penalty against him, he said, there was no
such thing as perpetual imprisonment except in hell. Alluding to the
leading cause of all these troubles, he observed that it was with the
Stadholder and the Advocate as Cato had said of Caesar and Pompey. The
great misery had come not from their being enemies, but from their having
once been friends.

On the night of 5th June the prisoners were taken from their prison in
the Hague and conveyed to the castle of Loevestein.

This fortress, destined thenceforth to be famous in history and--from its
frequent use in after-times as a state-prison for men of similar
constitutional views to those of Grotius and the Advocate--to give its
name to a political party, was a place of extraordinary strength. Nature
and art had made it, according to military ideas of that age, almost
impregnable. As a prison it seemed the very castle of despair. "Abandon
all hope ye who enter" seemed engraven over its portal.

Situate in the very narrow, acute angle where the broad, deep, and turbid
Waal--the chief of the three branches into which the Rhine divides itself
on entering the Netherlands--mingles its current with the silver Meuse
whose name it adopts as the united rivers roll to the sea, it was guarded
on many sides by these deep and dangerous streams. On the land-side it
was surrounded by high walls and a double foss, which protected it
against any hostile invasion from Brabant. As the Twelve Years' Truce was
running to its close, it was certain that pains would be taken to
strengthen the walls and deepen the ditches, that the place might be
proof against all marauders and land-robbers likely to swarm over from
the territory of the Archdukes. The town of Gorcum was exactly opposite
on the northern side of the Waal, while Worcum was about a league's
distance from the castle on the southern side, but separated from it by
the Meuse.

The prisoners, after crossing the drawbridge, were led through thirteen
separate doors, each one secured by iron bolts and heavy locks, until
they reached their separate apartments.

They were never to see or have any communication with each other. It had
been accorded by the States-General however that the wives of the two
gentlemen were to have access to their prison, were to cook for them in
the castle kitchen, and, if they chose to inhabit the fortress, might
cross to the neighbouring town of Gorcum from time to time to make
purchases, and even make visits to the Hague. Twenty-four stuivers, or
two shillings, a day were allowed by the States-General for the support
of each prisoner and his family. As the family property of Grotius was at
once sequestered, with a view to its ultimate confiscation, it was clear
that abject indigence as well as imprisonment was to be the lifelong lot
of this illustrious person, who had hitherto lived in modest affluence,
occupying the most considerable of social positions.

The commandant of the fortress was inspired from the outset with a desire
to render the prisoner's situation as hateful as it was in his power to
make it. And much was in his power. He resolved that the family should
really live upon their daily pittance. Yet Madame de Groot, before the
final confiscation of her own and her husband's estates, had been able to
effect considerable loans, both to carry on process against government
for what the prisoners contended was an unjust confiscation, and for
providing for the household on a decent scale and somewhat in accordance
with the requirements of the prisoner's health. Thus there was a
wearisome and ignoble altercation, revived from day to day, between the
Commandant and Madame de Groot. It might have been thought enough of
torture for this virtuous and accomplished lady, but twenty-nine years of
age and belonging to one of the eminent families of the country, to see
her husband, for his genius and accomplishments the wonder of Europe,
thus cut off in the flower of his age and doomed to a living grave. She
was nevertheless to be subjected to the perpetual inquisition of the
market-basket, which she was not ashamed with her maid to take to and
from Gorcum, and to petty wrangles about the kitchen fire where she was
proud to superintend the cooking of the scanty fare for her husband and
her five children.

There was a reason for the spite of the military jailer. Lieutenant
Prouninx, called Deventer, commandant of Loevestein, was son of the
notorious Gerard Prouninx, formerly burgomaster of Utrecht, one of the
ringleaders of the Leicester faction in the days when the Earl made his
famous attempts upon the four cities. He had sworn revenge upon all those
concerned in his father's downfall, and it was a delight therefore to
wreak a personal vengeance on one who had since become so illustrious a
member of that party by which the former burgomaster had been deposed,
although Grotius at the time of Leicester's government had scarcely left
his cradle.

Thus these ladies were to work in the kitchen and go to market from time
to time, performing this menial drudgery under the personal inspection of
the warrior who governed the garrison and fortress, but who in vain
attempted to make Maria van Reigersbergen tremble at his frown.

Hugo de Groot, when thus for life immured, after having already undergone
a preliminary imprisonment of nine months, was just thirty-six years of
age. Although comparatively so young, he had been long regarded as one of
the great luminaries of Europe for learning and genius. Of an ancient and
knightly race, his immediate ancestors had been as famous for literature,
science, and municipal abilities as their more distant progenitors for
deeds of arms in the feudal struggles of Holland in the middle ages.

His father and grandfather had alike been eminent for Hebrew, Greek, and
Latin scholarship, and both had occupied high positions in the University
of Leyden from its beginning. Hugo, born and nurtured under such
quickening influences, had been a scholar and poet almost from his
cradle. He wrote respectable Latin verses at the age of seven, he was
matriculated at Leyden at the age of eleven. That school, founded amid
the storms and darkness of terrible war, was not lightly to be entered.
It was already illustrated by a galaxy of shining lights in science and
letters, which radiated over Christendom. His professors were Joseph
Scaliger, Francis Junius, Paulus Merula, and a host of others. His
fellow-students were men like Scriverius, Vossius, Baudius, Daniel
Heinsius. The famous soldier and poet Douza, who had commanded the forces
of Leyden during the immortal siege, addressed him on his admission to
the university as "Magne peer magni dignissime cura parentis," in a copy
of eloquent verses.

When fourteen years old, he took his bachelor's degree, after a rigorous
examination not only in the classics but astronomy, mathematics,
jurisprudence, and theology, at an age when most youths would have been
accounted brilliant if able to enter that high school with credit.

On leaving the University he was attached to the embassy of Barneveld and
Justinus van Nassau to the court of Henry IV. Here he attracted the
attention of that monarch, who pointed him out to his courtiers as the
"miracle of Holland," presented him with a gold chain with his miniature
attached to it, and proposed to confer on him the dignity of knighthood,
which the boy from motives of family pride appears to have refused. While
in France he received from the University of Orleans, before the age of
fifteen, the honorary degree of Doctor of Laws in a very eulogistic
diploma. On his return to Holland he published an edition of the poet
Johannes Capella with valuable annotations, besides giving to the public
other learned and classical works and several tragedies of more or less
merit. At the age of seventeen he was already an advocate in full
practice before the supreme tribunals of the Hague, and when twenty-three
years old he was selected by Prince Maurice from a list of three
candidates for the important post of Fiscal or Attorney-General of
Holland. Other civic dignities, embassies, and offices of various kinds,
had been thrust upon him one after another, in all of which he had
acquitted himself with dignity and brilliancy. He was but twenty-six when
he published his argument for the liberty of the sea, the famous Mare
Liberum, and a little later appeared his work on the Antiquity of the
Batavian Republic, which procured for him in Spain the title of "Hugo
Grotius, auctor damnatus." At the age of twenty-nine he had completed his
Latin history of the Netherlands from the period immediately preceding
the war of independence down to the conclusion of the Truce, 1550-1609--a
work which has been a classic ever since its appearance, although not
published until after his death. A chief magistrate of Rotterdam, member
of the States of Holland and the States-General, jurist, advocate,
attorney-general, poet, scholar, historian, editor of the Greek and Latin
classics, writer of tragedies, of law treatises, of theological
disquisitions, he stood foremost among a crowd of famous contemporaries.
His genius, eloquence, and learning were esteemed among the treasures not
only of his own country but of Europe. He had been part and parcel of his
country's history from his earliest manhood, and although a child in
years compared to Barneveld, it was upon him that the great statesman had
mainly relied ever since the youth's first appearance in public affairs.
Impressible, emotional, and susceptive, he had been accused from time to
time, perhaps not entirely without reason, of infirmity of purpose, or at
least of vacillation in opinion; but his worst enemies had never assailed
the purity of his heart or integrity of his character. He had not yet
written the great work on the 'Rights of War and Peace', which was to
make an epoch in the history of civilization and to be the foundation of
a new science, but the materials lay already in the ample storehouse of
his memory and his brain.

Possessed of singular personal beauty--which the masterly portraits of
Miereveld attest to the present day--tall, brown-haired;
straight-featured, with a delicate aquiline nose and piercing dark blue
eyes, he was also athletic of frame and a proficient in manly exercises.
This was the statesman and the scholar, of whom it is difficult to speak
but in terms of affectionate but not exaggerated eulogy, and for whom the
Republic of the Netherlands could now find no better use than to shut him
up in the grim fortress of Loevestein for the remainder of his days. A
commonwealth must have deemed itself rich in men which, after cutting off
the head of Barneveld, could afford to bury alive Hugo Grotius.

His deportment in prison was a magnificent moral lesson. Shut up in a
kind of cage consisting of a bedroom and a study, he was debarred from
physical exercise, so necessary for his mental and bodily health. Not
choosing for the gratification of Lieutenant Deventer to indulge in weak
complaints, he procured a huge top, which he employed himself in whipping
several hours a day; while for intellectual employment he plunged once
more into those classical, juridical, and theological studies which had
always employed his leisure hours from childhood upwards.

It had been forbidden by the States-General to sell his likeness in the
shops. The copper plates on which they had been engraved had as far as
possible been destroyed.

The wish of the government, especially of his judges, was that his name
and memory should die at once and for ever. They were not destined to be
successful, for it would be equally difficult to-day to find an educated
man in Christendom ignorant of the name of Hugo Grotius, or acquainted
with that of a single one of his judges.

And his friends had not forgotten him as he lay there living in his tomb.
Especially the learned Scriverius, Vossius, and other professors, were
permitted to correspond with him at intervals on literary subjects, the
letters being subjected to preliminary inspection. Scriverius sent him
many books from his well-stocked library, de Groot's own books and papers
having been confiscated by the government. At a somewhat later period the
celebrated Orientalist Erpenius sent him from time to time a large chest
of books, the precious freight being occasionally renewed and the chest
passing to and from Loevestein by way of Gorcum. At this town lived a
sister of Erpenius, married to one Daatselaer, a considerable dealer in
thread and ribbons, which he exported to England. The house of Daatselaer
became a place of constant resort for Madame de Groot as well as the wife
of Hoogerbeets, both dames going every few days from the castle across
the Waal to Gorcum, to make their various purchases for the use of their
forlorn little households in the prison. Madame Daatselaer therefore
received and forwarded into Loevestein or into Holland many parcels and
boxes, besides attending to the periodical transmission of the mighty
chest of books.

Professor Vossius was then publishing a new edition of the tragedies of
Seneca, and at his request Grotius enriched that work, from his prison,
with valuable notes. He employed himself also in translating the moral
sentences extracted by Stobaeus from the Greek tragedies; drawing
consolation from the ethics and philosophy of the ancient dramatists,
whom he had always admired, especially the tragedies of Euripides; he
formed a complete moral anthology from that poet and from the works of
Sophocles, Menander, and others, which he translated into fluent Dutch
verse. Becoming more and more interested in the subject, he executed a
masterly rhymed translation of the 'Theban Brothers' of Euripides, thus
seeking distraction from his own tragic doom in the portraiture of
antique, distant, and heroic sorrow.

Turning again to legal science, he completed an Introduction to the
Jurisprudence of Holland, a work which as soon as published became
thenceforward a text-book and an oracle in the law courts and the high
schools of the country. Not forgetting theology, he composed for the use
of the humbler classes, especially for sailors, in whose lot, so exposed
to danger and temptation, he ever took deep interest, a work on the
proofs of Christianity in easy and familiar rhyme--a book of gold, as it
was called at once, which became rapidly popular with those for whom it
was designed.

At a somewhat later period Professor Erpenius, publishing a new edition
of the New Testament in Greek, with translations in Arabic, Syriac, and
Ethiopian, solicited his friend's help both in translations and in the
Latin commentaries and expositions with which he proposed to accompany
the work. The prisoner began with a modest disclaimer, saying that after
the labours of Erasmus and Beza, Maldonatus and Jasenius, there was
little for him to glean. Becoming more enthusiastic as he went on, he
completed a masterly commentary on the Four Evangelists, a work for which
the learned and religious world has ever recognized a kind of debt of
gratitude to the castle of Loevestein, and hailed in him the founder of a
school of manly Biblical criticism.

And thus nearly two years wore away. Spinning his great top for exercise;
soothing his active and prolific brain with Greek tragedy, with Flemish
verse, with jurisprudence, history, theology; creating, expounding,
adorning, by the warmth of his vivid intellect; moving the world, and
doing good to his race from the depths of his stony sepulchre; Hugo
Grotius rose superior to his doom and took captivity captive. The man is
not to be envied who is not moved by so noble an example of great
calamity manfully endured.

The wife of Hoogerbeets, already advanced in years, sickened during the
imprisonment and died at Loevestein after a lingering illness, leaving
six children to the care of her unfortunate husband. Madame de Groot had
not been permitted by the prison authorities to minister to her in
sickness, nor to her children after her death.

Early in the year 1621 Francis Aerssens, Lord of Sommelsdyk, the arch
enemy of Barneveld and of Grotius, was appointed special ambassador to
Paris. The intelligence--although hardly unexpected, for the stratagems
of Aerssens had been completely successful--moved the prisoner deeply. He
felt that this mortal enemy, not glutted with vengeance by the beheading
of the Advocate and the perpetual imprisonment of his friend, would do
his best at the French court to defame and to blacken him. He did what he
could to obviate this danger by urgent letters to friends on whom he
could rely.

At about the same time Muis van Holy, one of the twenty-four
commissioners, not yet satisfied with the misery he had helped to
inflict, informed the States-General that Madame de Groot had been buying
ropes at Gorcum. On his motion a committee was sent to investigate the
matter at Castle Loevestein, where it was believed that the ropes had
been concealed for the purpose of enabling Grotius to make his escape
from prison.

Lieutenant Deventer had heard nothing of the story. He was in high
spirits at the rumour however, and conducted the committee very eagerly
over the castle, causing minute search to be made in the apartment of
Grotius for the ropes which, as they were assured by him and his wife,
had never existed save in the imagination of Judge Muis. They succeeded
at least in inflicting much superfluous annoyance on their victims, and
in satisfying themselves that it would be as easy for the prisoner to fly
out of the fortress on wings as to make his escape with ropes, even if he
had them.

Grotius soon afterwards addressed a letter to the States-General
denouncing the statement of Muis as a fable, and these persistent
attempts to injure him as cowardly and wicked.

A few months later Madame de Groot happened to be in the house of
Daatselaer on one of her periodical visits to Gorcum. Conversation
turning on these rumours March of attempts at escape, she asked Madame
Daatselaer if she would not be much embarrassed, should Grotius suddenly
make his appearance there.

"Oh no," said the good woman with a laugh; "only let him come. We will
take excellent care of him."

At another visit one Saturday, 20th March, (1621) Madame de Groot asked
her friend why all the bells of Gorcum march were ringing.

"Because to-morrow begins our yearly fair," replied Dame Daatselaer.

"Well, I suppose that all exiles and outlaws may come to Gorcum on this
occasion," said Madame de Groot.

"Such is the law, they say," answered her friend.

"And my husband might come too?"

"No doubt," said Madame Daatselaer with a merry laugh, rejoiced at
finding the wife of Grotius able to speak so cheerfully of her husband in
his perpetual and hopeless captivity. "Send him hither. He shall have, a
warm welcome."

"What a good woman you are!" said Madame de Groot with a sigh as she rose
to take leave. "But you know very well that if he were a bird he could
never get out of the castle, so closely, he is caged there."

Next morning a wild equinoctial storm was howling around the battlements
of the castle. Of a sudden Cornelia, daughter of the de Groots, nine
years of age, said to her mother without any reason whatever,

"To-morrow Papa must be off to Gorcum, whatever the weather may be."

De Groot, as well as his wife, was aghast at the child's remark, and took
it as a direct indication from Heaven.

For while Madame Daatselaer had considered the recent observations of her
visitor from Loevestein as idle jests, and perhaps wondered that Madame
de Groot could be frivolous and apparently lighthearted on so dismal a
topic, there had been really a hidden meaning in her words.

For several weeks past the prisoner had been brooding over a means of
escape. His wife, whose every thought was devoted to him, had often cast
her eyes on the great chest or trunk in which the books of Erpenius had
been conveyed between Loevestein and Gorcum for the use of the prisoner.
At first the trunk had been carefully opened and its contents examined
every time it entered or left the castle. As nothing had ever been found
in it save Hebrew, Greek, and Latin folios, uninviting enough to the
Commandant, that warrior had gradually ceased to inspect the chest very
closely, and had at last discontinued the practice altogether.

It had been kept for some weeks past in the prisoner's study. His wife
thought--although it was two finger breadths less than four feet in
length, and not very broad or deep in proportion--that it might be
possible for him to get into it. He was considerably above middle height,
but found that by curling himself up very closely he could just manage to
lie in it with the cover closed. Very secretly they had many times
rehearsed the scheme which had now taken possession of their minds, but
had not breathed a word of it to any one. He had lain in the chest with
the lid fastened, and with his wife sitting upon the top of it, two hours
at a time by the hour-glass. They had decided at last that the plan,
though fraught with danger, was not absolutely impossible, and they were
only waiting now for a favourable opportunity. The chance remark of the
child Cornelia settled the time for hazarding the adventure. By a strange
coincidence, too, the commandant of the fortress, Lieutenant Deventer,
had just been promoted to a captaincy, and was to go to Heusden to
receive his company. He left the castle for a brief absence that very
Sunday evening. As a precautionary measure, the trunk filled with books
had been sent to Gorcum and returned after the usual interval only a few
days before.

The maid-servant of the de Groots, a young girl of twenty, Elsje van
Houwening by name, quick, intelligent, devoted, and courageous, was now
taken into their confidence. The scheme was explained to her, and she was
asked if she were willing to take the chest under her charge with her
master in it, instead of the usual freight of books, and accompany it to
Gorcum.

She naturally asked what punishment could be inflicted upon her in case
the plot were discovered.

"None legally," answered her master; "but I too am innocent of any crime,
and you see to what sufferings I have been condemned."

"Whatever come of it," said Elsje stoutly; "I will take the risk and
accompany my master."

Every detail was then secretly arranged, and it was provided beforehand,
as well as possible, what should be said or done in the many
contingencies that might arise.

On Sunday evening Madame de Groot then went to the wife of the
Commandant, with whom she had always been on more friendly terms than
with her malicious husband. She had also recently propitiated her
affections by means of venison and other dainties brought from Gorcum.
She expressed the hope that, notwithstanding the absence of Captain
Deventer, she might be permitted to send the trunk full of books next day
from the castle.

"My husband is wearing himself out," she said, "with his perpetual
studies. I shall be glad for a little time to be rid of some of these
folios."

The Commandant's wife made no objection to this slight request.

On Monday morning the gale continued to beat with unabated violence on
the turrets. The turbid Waal, swollen by the tempest, rolled darkly and
dangerously along the castle walls.

But the die was cast. Grotius rose betimes, fell on his knees, and prayed
fervently an hour long. Dressed only in linen underclothes with a pair of
silk stockings, he got into the chest with the help of his wife. The big
Testament of Erpenius, with some bunches of thread placed upon it, served
him as a pillow. A few books and papers were placed in the interstices
left by the curves of his body, and as much pains as possible taken to
prevent his being seriously injured or incommoded during the hazardous
journey he was contemplating. His wife then took solemn farewell of him,
fastened the lock, which she kissed, and gave the key to Elsje.

The usual garments worn by the prisoner were thrown on a chair by the
bedside and his slippers placed before it. Madame de Groot then returned
to her bed, drew the curtains close, and rang the bell.

It was answered by the servant who usually waited on the prisoner, and
who was now informed by the lady that it had been her intention to go
herself to Gorcum, taking charge of the books which were valuable. As the
weather was so tempestuous however, and as she was somewhat indisposed,
it had been decided that Elsje should accompany the trunk.

She requested that some soldiers might be sent as usual to take it down
to the vessel. Two or three of the garrison came accordingly, and seeing
the clothes and slippers of Grotius lying about, and the bed-curtains
closed, felt no suspicion.

On lifting the chest, however, one of them said, half in jest:

"The Arminian must be in it himself, it seems so heavy!"

"Not the Arminian," replied Madame de Groot, in a careless voice, from
the bed; "only heavy Arminian books."

Partly lifting, partly dragging the ponderous box, the soldiers managed
to get it down the stairs and through the thirteen barred and bolted
doors. Four several times one or other of the soldiers expressed the
opinion that Grotius himself must be locked within it, but they never
spoke quite seriously, and Elsje was ever ready to turn aside the remark
with a jest. A soldier's wife, just as the box was approaching the wharf,
told a story of a malefactor who had once been carried out of the castle
in a chest.

"And if a malefactor, why not a lawyer?" she added. A soldier said he
would get a gimlet and bore a hole into the Arminian. "Then you must get
a gimlet that will reach to the top of the castle, where the Arminian
lies abed and asleep," said Elsje.

Not much heed was given to this careless talk, the soldiers, before
leaving the chamber of Grotius, having satisfied themselves that there
were no apertures in the chest save the keyhole, and that it would be
impossible by that means alone for sufficient air to penetrate to keep a
man enclosed in it from smothering.

Madame Deventer was asked if she chose to inspect the contents of the
trunk, and she enquired whether the Commandant had been wont so to do.
When told that such search had been for a long time discontinued, as
nothing had ever been found there but books, she observed that there was
no reason why she should be more strict than her husband, and ordered the
soldiers to take their heavy load to the vessel.

Elsje insisted that the boatmen should place a doubly thick plank for
sliding the box on board, as it seemed probable, she said, that the usual
one would break in two, and then the valuable books borrowed of Professor
Erpenius would be damaged or destroyed. The request caused much further
grumbling, but was complied with at last and the chest deposited on the
deck. The wind still continued to blow with great fury, and as soon as
the sails were set the vessel heeled over so much, that Elsje implored
the skipper to cause the box to be securely lashed, as it seemed in
imminent danger, at the first lurch of the vessel, of sliding into the
sea.

This done, Elsje sat herself down and threw her white handkerchief over
her head, letting it flutter in the wind. One of the crew asked her why
she did so, and she replied that the servant in the castle had been
tormenting her, saying that she would never dare to sail to Gorcum in
such tempestuous weather, and she was now signalling him that she had
been as good as her word. Whereupon she continued to wave the
handkerchief.

In reality the signal was for her mistress, who was now straining her
eyes from the barred window which looked out upon the Waal, and with whom
the maid had agreed that if all went prosperously she would give this
token of success. Otherwise she would sit with her head in her hands.

During the voyage an officer of the garrison, who happened to be on
board, threw himself upon the chest as a convenient seat, and began
drumming and pounding with his heels upon it. The ever watchful Elsje,
feeling the dreadful inconvenience to the prisoner of these proceedings,
who perhaps was already smothering and would struggle for air if not
relieved, politely addressed the gentleman and induced him to remove to
another seat by telling him that, besides the books, there was some
valuable porcelain in the chest which might easily be broken.

No further incident occurred. The wind, although violent, was favourable,
and Gorcum in due time was reached. Elsje insisted upon having her own
precious freight carried first into the town, although the skipper for
some time was obstinately bent on leaving it to the very last, while all
the other merchandise in the vessel should be previously unshipped.

At last on promise of payment of ten stuivers, which was considered an
exorbitant sum, the skipper and son agreed to transport the chest between
them on a hand-barrow. While they were trudging with it to the town, the
son remarked to his father that there was some living thing in the box.
For the prisoner in the anguish of his confinement had not been able to
restrain a slight movement.

"Do you hear what my son says?" cried the skipper to Elsje. "He says you
have got something alive in your trunk."

"Yes, yes," replied the cheerful maid-servant; "Arminian books are always
alive, always full of motion and spirit."

They arrived at Daatselaer's house, moving with difficulty through the
crowd which, notwithstanding the boisterous weather, had been collected
by the annual fair. Many people were assembled in front of the building,
which was a warehouse of great resort, while next door was a
book-seller's shop thronged with professors, clergymen, and other
literary persons. The carriers accordingly entered by the backway, and
Elsje, deliberately paying them their ten stuivers, and seeing them
depart, left the box lying in a room at the rear and hastened to the shop
in front.

Here she found the thread and ribbon dealer and his wife, busy with their
customers, unpacking and exhibiting their wares. She instantly whispered
in Madame Daatselaer's ear, "I have got my master here in your back
parlour."

The dame turned white as a sheet, and was near fainting on the spot. It
was the first imprudence Elsje had committed. The good woman recovered
somewhat of her composure by a strong effort however, and instantly went
with Elsje to the rear of the house.

"Master! master!" cried Elsje, rapping on the chest.

There was no answer.

"My God! my God!" shrieked the poor maid-servant. "My poor master is
dead."

"Ah!" said Madame Daatselaer, "your mistress has made a bad business of
it. Yesterday she had a living husband. Now she has a dead one."

But soon there was a vigorous rap on the inside of the lid, and a cry
from the prisoner:

"Open the chest! I am not dead, but did not at first recognize your
voice."

The lock was instantly unfastened, the lid thrown open, and Grotius arose
in his linen clothing, like a dead man from his coffin.

The dame instantly accompanied the two through a trapdoor into an upper
room.

Grotius asked her if she was always so deadly pale.

"No," she replied, "but I am frightened to see you here. My lord is no
common person. The whole world is talking of you. I fear this will cause
the loss of all my property and perhaps bring my husband into prison in
your place."

Grotius rejoined: "I made my prayers to God before as much as this had
been gained, and I have just been uttering fervent thanks to Him for my
deliverance so far as it has been effected. But if the consequences are
to be as you fear, I am ready at once to get into the chest again and be
carried back to prison."

But she answered, "No; whatever comes of it, we have you here and will do
all that we can to help you on."

Grotius being faint from his sufferings, the lady brought him a glass of
Spanish wine, but was too much flustered to find even a cloak or shawl to
throw over him. Leaving him sitting there in his very thin attire, just
as he had got out of the chest, she went to the front warehouse to call
her husband. But he prudently declined to go to his unexpected guest. It
would be better in the examination sure to follow, he said, for him to
say with truth that he had not seen him and knew nothing of the escape,
from first to last.

Grotius entirely approved of the answer when told to him. Meantime Madame
Daatselaer had gone to her brother-in-law van der Veen, a clothier by
trade, whom she found in his shop talking with an officer of the
Loevestein garrison. She whispered in the clothier's ear, and he, making
an excuse to the officer, followed her home at once. They found Grotius
sitting where he had been left. Van der Veen gave him his hand, saying:

"Sir, you are the man of whom the whole country is talking?"

"Yes, here I am," was the reply, "and I put myself in your hands--"

"There isn't a moment to lose," replied the clothier. "We must help you
away at once."

He went immediately in search of one John Lambertsen, a man in whom he
knew he could confide, a Lutheran in religion, a master-mason by
occupation. He found him on a scaffold against the gable-end of a house,
working at his trade.

He told him that there was a good deed to be done which he could do
better than any man, that his conscience would never reproach him for it,
and that he would at the same time earn no trifling reward.

He begged the mason to procure a complete dress as for a journeyman, and
to follow him to the house of his brother-in-law Daatselaer.

Lambertsen soon made his appearance with the doublet, trunk-hose, and
shoes of a bricklayer, together with trowel and measuring-rod. He was
informed who his new journeyman was to be, and Grotius at once put on the
disguise.

The doublet did not reach to the waistband of the trunkhose, while those
nether garments stopped short of his knees; the whole attire belonging to
a smaller man than the unfortunate statesman. His delicate white hands,
much exposed by the shortness of the sleeves, looked very unlike those of
a day-labourer, and altogether the new mason presented a somewhat
incongruous and wobegone aspect. Grotius was fearful too lest some of the
preachers and professors frequenting the book-shop next door would
recognize him through his disguise. Madame Daatselaer smeared his face
and hands with chalk and plaster however and whispered encouragement, and
so with a felt hat slouched over his forehead and a yardstick in his
hand, he walked calmly forth into the thronged marketplace and through
the town to the ferry, accompanied by the friendly Lambertsen. It had
been agreed that van der Veen should leave the house in another direction
and meet them at the landing-place.

When they got to the ferry, they found the weather as boisterous as ever.
The boatmen absolutely refused to make the dangerous crossing of the
Merwede over which their course lay to the land of Altona, and so into
the Spanish Netherlands, for two such insignificant personages as this
mason and his scarecrow journeyman.

Lambertsen assured them that it was of the utmost importance that he
should cross the water at once. He had a large contract for purchasing
stone at Altona for a public building on which he was engaged. Van der
Veen coming up added his entreaties, protesting that he too was
interested in this great stone purchase, and so by means of offering a
larger price than they at first dared to propose, they were able to
effect their passage.

After landing, Lambertsen and Grotius walked to Waalwyk, van der Veen
returning the same evening to Gorcum. It was four o'clock in the
afternoon when they reached Waalwyk, where a carriage was hired to convey
the fugitive to Antwerp. The friendly mason here took leave of his
illustrious journeyman, having first told the driver that his companion
was a disguised bankrupt fleeing from Holland into foreign territory to
avoid pursuit by his creditors. This would explain his slightly
concealing his face in passing through a crowd in any village.

Grotius proved so ignorant of the value of different coins in making
small payments on the road, that the honest waggoner, on being
occasionally asked who the odd-looking stranger was, answered that he was
a bankrupt, and no wonder, for he did not know one piece of money from
another. For, his part he thought him little better than a fool.

Such was the depreciatory opinion formed by the Waalwyk coachman as to
the "rising light of the world" and the "miracle of Holland." They
travelled all night and, arriving on the morning of the 21st within a few
leagues of Antwerp, met a patrol of soldiers, who asked Grotius for his
passport. He enquired in whose service they were, and was told in that of
"Red Rod," as the chief bailiff of Antwerp was called. That functionary
happened to be near, and the traveller approaching him said that his
passport was on his feet, and forthwith told him his name and story.

Red Rod treated him at once with perfect courtesy, offered him a horse
for himself with a mounted escort, and so furthered his immediate
entrance to Antwerp. Grotius rode straight to the house of a banished
friend of his, the preacher Grevinkhoven. He was told by the daughter of
that clergyman that her father was upstairs ministering at the bedside of
his sick wife. But so soon as the traveller had sent up his name, both
the preacher and the invalid came rushing downstairs to fall upon the
neck of one who seemed as if risen from the dead.

The news spread, and Episcopius and other exiled friends soon thronged to
the house of Grevinkhoven, where they all dined together in great glee,
Grotius, still in his journeyman's clothes, narrating the particulars of
his wonderful escape.

He had no intention of tarrying in his resting-place at Antwerp longer
than was absolutely necessary. Intimations were covertly made to him that
a brilliant destiny might be in store for him should he consent to enter
the service of the Archdukes, nor were there waning rumours, circulated
as a matter of course by his host of enemies, that he was about to become
a renegade to country and religion. There was as much truth in the
slanders as in the rest of the calumnies of which he had been the victim
during his career. He placed on record a proof of his loyal devotion to
his country in the letters which he wrote from Antwerp within a week of
his arrival there. With his subsequent history, his appearance and long
residence at the French court as ambassador of Sweden, his memorable
labours in history, diplomacy, poetry, theology, the present narrative is
not concerned. Driven from the service of his Fatherland, of which his
name to all time is one of the proudest garlands, he continued to be a
benefactor not only to her but to all mankind. If refutation is sought of
the charge that republics are ungrateful, it will certainly not be found
in the history of Hugo Grotius or John of Barneveld.

Nor is there need to portray the wrath of Captain Deventer when he
returned to Castle Loevestein.

"Here is the cage, but your bird is flown," said corpulent Maria Grotius
with a placid smile. The Commandant solaced himself by uttering
imprecations on her, on her husband, and on Elsje van Houwening. But
these curses could not bring back the fugitive. He flew to Gorcum to
browbeat the Daatselaers and to search the famous trunk. He found in it
the big New Testament and some skeins of thread, together with an octavo
or two of theology and of Greek tragedies; but the Arminian was not in
it, and was gone from the custody of the valiant Deventer for ever.

After a brief period Madame de Groot was released and rejoined her
husband. Elsje van Houwening, true heroine of the adventure, was
subsequently married to the faithful servant of Grotius, who during the
two years' imprisonment had been taught Latin and the rudiments of law by
his master, so that he subsequently rose to be a thriving and respectable
advocate at the tribunals of Holland.

The Stadholder, when informed of the escape of the prisoner, observed, "I
always thought the black pig was deceiving me," making not very
complimentary allusion to the complexion and size of the lady who had
thus aided the escape of her husband.

He is also reported as saying that it "is no wonder they could not keep
Grotius in prison, as he has more wit than all his judges put together."




CHAPTER XXIII.

   Barneveld's Sons plot against Maurice--The Conspiracy betrayed to
   Maurice--Escape of Stoutenburg--Groeneveld is arrested--Mary of
   Barneveld appeals to the Stadholder--Groeneveld condemned to Death--
   Execution of Groeneveld.

The widow of Barneveld had remained, since the last scene of the fatal
tragedy on the Binnenhof, in hopeless desolation. The wife of the man who
during a whole generation of mankind had stood foremost among the
foremost of the world, and had been one of those chief actors and
directors in human affairs to whom men's eyes turned instinctively from
near and from afar, had led a life of unbroken prosperity. An heiress in
her own right, Maria van Utrecht had laid the foundation of her husband's
wealth by her union with the rising young lawyer and statesman. Her two
sons and two daughters had grown up around her, all four being married
into the leading families of the land, and with apparently long lives of
prosperity and usefulness before them. And now the headsman's sword had
shivered all this grandeur and happiness at a blow. The name of the dead
statesman had become a word of scoffing and reproach; vagabond
mountebanks enacted ribald scenes to his dishonour in the public squares
and streets; ballad-mongers yelled blasphemous libels upon him in the
very ears of his widow and children. For party hatred was not yet glutted
with the blood it had drunk.

It would be idle to paint the misery of this brokenhearted woman.

The great painters of the epoch have preserved her face to posterity; the
grief-stricken face of a hard-featured but commanding and not uncomely
woman, the fountains of whose tears seem exhausted; a face of austere and
noble despair. A decorous veil should be thrown over the form of that
aged matron, for whose long life and prosperity Fate took such merciless
vengeance at last.

For the woes of Maria of Barneveld had scarcely begun. Desolation had
become her portion, but dishonour had not yet crossed her threshold.
There were sterner strokes in store for her than that which smote her
husband on the scaffold.

She had two sons, both in the prime of life. The eldest, Reinier, Lord of
Groeneveld, who had married a widow of rank and wealth, Madame de
Brandwyk, was living since the death of his father in comparative ease,
but entire obscurity. An easy-tempered, genial, kindly gentleman, he had
been always much beloved by his friends and, until the great family
catastrophe, was popular with the public, but of an infirm and
vacillating character, easily impressed by others, and apt to be led by
stronger natures than his own. He had held the lucrative office of head
forester of Delfland of which he had now been deprived.

The younger son William, called, from an estate conferred on him by his
father, Lord of Stoutenburg, was of a far different mould. We have seen
him at an earlier period of this narrative attached to the embassy of
Francis Aerssens in Paris, bearing then from another estate the unmusical
title of Craimgepolder, and giving his subtle and dangerous chief great
cause of complaint by his irregular, expensive habits. He had been
however rather a favourite with Henry IV., who had so profound a respect
for the father as to consult him, and him only of all foreign statesmen,
in the gravest affairs of his reign, and he had even held an office of
honour and emolument at his court. Subsequently he had embraced the
military career, and was esteemed a soldier of courage and promise. As
captain of cavalry and governor of the fortress of Bergen op Zoom, he
occupied a distinguished and lucrative position, and was likely, so soon
as the Truce ran to its close, to make a name for himself in that
gigantic political and religious war which had already opened in Bohemia,
and in which it was evident the Republic would soon be desperately
involved. His wife, Walburg de Marnix, was daughter to one of the noblest
characters in the history of the Netherlands, or of any history, the
illustrious Sainte-Aldegonde. Two thousand florins a year from his
father's estate had been settled on him at his marriage, which, in
addition to his official and military income, placed him in a position of
affluence.

After the death of his father the family estates were confiscated, and he
was likewise deprived of his captaincy and his governorship. He was
reduced at a blow from luxury and high station to beggary and obscurity.
At the renewal of the war he found himself, for no fault of his own,
excluded from the service of his country. Yet the Advocate almost in his
last breath had recommended his sons to the Stadholder, and Maurice had
sent a message in response that so long as the sons conducted themselves
well they might rely upon his support.

Hitherto they had not conducted themselves otherwise than well.
Stoutenburg, who now dwelt in his house with his mother, was of a dark,
revengeful, turbulent disposition. In the career of arms he had a right
to look forward to success, but thus condemned to brood in idleness on
the cruel wrongs to himself and his house it was not improbable that he
might become dangerous.

Years long he fed on projects of vengeance as his daily bread. He was
convinced that his personal grievances were closely entwined with the
welfare of the Commonwealth, and he had sworn to avenge the death of his
father, the misery of his mother, and the wrongs which he was himself
suffering, upon the Stadholder, whom he considered the author of all
their woe. To effect a revolution in the government, and to bring back to
power all the municipal regents whom Maurice had displaced so summarily,
in order, as the son believed, to effect the downfall of the hated
Advocate, this was the determination of Stoutenburg.

He did not pause to reflect whether the arm which had been strong enough
to smite to nothingness the venerable statesman in the plenitude of his
power would be too weak to repel the attack of an obscure and disarmed
partisan. He saw only a hated tyrant, murderer, and oppressor, as he
considered him, and he meant to have his life.

He had around him a set of daring and desperate men to whom he had from
time to time half confided his designs. A certain unfrocked preacher of
the Remonstrant persuasion, who, according to the fashion of the learned
of that day, had translated his name out of Hendrik Sleet into Henricus
Slatius, was one of his most unscrupulous instruments. Slatius, a big,
swarthy, shag-eared, beetle-browed Hollander, possessed learning of no
ordinary degree, a tempestuous kind of eloquence, and a habit of dealing
with men; especially those of the humbler classes. He was passionate,
greedy, overbearing, violent, and loose of life. He had sworn vengeance
upon the Remonstrants in consequence of a private quarrel, but this did
not prevent him from breathing fire and fury against the
Contra-Remonstrants also, and especially against the Stadholder, whom he
affected to consider the arch-enemy of the whole Commonwealth.

Another twelvemonth went by. The Advocate had been nearly four years in
his grave. The terrible German war was in full blaze. The Twelve Years'
Truce had expired, the Republic was once more at war, and Stoutenburg,
forbidden at the head of his troop to campaign with the Stadholder
against the Archdukes, nourished more fiercely than ever his plan against
the Stadholder's life.

Besides the ferocious Slatius he had other associates. There was his
cousin by marriage, van der Dussen, a Catholic gentleman, who had married
a daughter of Elias Barneveld, and who shared all Stoutenburg's feelings
of resentment towards Maurice. There was Korenwinder, another Catholic,
formerly occupying an official position of responsibility as secretary of
the town of Berkel, a man of immense corpulence, but none the less an
active and dangerous conspirator.

There was van Dyk, a secretary of Bleiswyk, equally active and dangerous,
and as lean and hungry as Korenwinder was fat. Stoutenburg, besides other
rewards, had promised him a cornetcy of cavalry, should their plans be
successful. And there was the brother-in-law of Slatius, one Cornelis
Gerritaen, a joiner by trade, living at Rotterdam, who made himself very
useful in all the details of the conspiracy.

For the plot was now arranged, the men just mentioned being its active
agents and in constant communication with Stoutenburg.

Korenwinder and van Dyk in the last days of December 1622 drew up a
scheme on paper, which was submitted to their chief and met with his
approval. The document began with a violent invective against the crimes
and tyranny of the Stadholder, demonstrated the necessity of a general
change in the government, and of getting rid of Maurice as an
indispensable preliminary, and laid down the means and method of doing
this deed.

The Prince was in the daily habit of driving, unattended by his
body-guard, to Ryswyk, about two miles from the Hague. It would not be
difficult for a determined band of men divided into two parties to set
upon him between the stables and his coach, either when alighting from or
about to enter it--the one party to kill him while the other protected
the retreat of the assassins, and beat down such defence as the few
lackeys of the Stadholder could offer.

The scheme, thus mapped out, was submitted to Stoutenburg, who gave it
his approval after suggesting a few amendments. The document was then
burnt. It was estimated that twenty men would be needed for the job, and
that to pay them handsomely would require about 6000 guilders.

The expenses and other details of the infamous plot were discussed as
calmly as if it had been an industrial or commercial speculation. But
6000 guilders was an immense sum to raise, and the Seigneur de
Stoutenburg was a beggar. His associates were as forlorn as himself, but
his brother-in-law, the ex-Ambassador van der Myle, was living at
Beverwyk under the supervision of the police, his property not having
been confiscated. Stoutenburg paid him a visit, accompanied by the
Reverend Slatius, in hopes of getting funds from him, but at the first
obscure hint of the infamous design van der Myle faced them with such
looks, gestures, and words of disgust and indignation that the murderous
couple recoiled, the son of Barneveld saying to the expreacher: "Let us
be off, Slaet,'tis a mere cur. Nothing is to be made of him."

The other son of Barneveld, the Seigneur de Groeneveld, had means and
credit. His brother had darkly hinted to him the necessity of getting rid
of Maurice, and tried to draw him into the plot. Groeneveld, more
unstable than water, neither repelled nor encouraged these advances. He
joined in many conversations with Stoutenburg, van Dyk, and Korenwinder,
but always weakly affected not to know what they were driving at. "When
we talk of business," said van Dyk to him one day, "you are always
turning off from us and from the subject. You had better remain." Many
anonymous letters were sent to him, calling on him to strike for
vengeance on the murderer of his father, and for the redemption of his
native land and the Remonstrant religion from foul oppression.

At last yielding to the persuasions and threats of his fierce younger
brother, who assured him that the plot would succeed, the government be
revolutionized, and that then all property would be at the mercy of the
victors, he agreed to endorse certain bills which Korenwinder undertook
to negotiate. Nothing could be meaner, more cowardly, and more murderous
than the proceedings of the Seigneur de Groeneveld. He seems to have felt
no intense desire of vengeance upon Maurice, which certainly would not
have been unnatural, but he was willing to supply money for his
assassination. At the same time he was careful to insist that this
pecuniary advance was by no means a free gift, but only a loan to be
repaid by his more bloodthirsty brother upon demand with interest. With a
businesslike caution, in ghastly contrast with the foulness of the
contract, he exacted a note of hand from Stoutenburg covering the whole
amount of his disbursements. There might come a time, he thought, when
his brother's paper would be more negotiable than it was at that moment.

Korenwinder found no difficulty in discounting Groeneveld's bills, and
the necessary capital was thus raised for the vile enterprise. Van Dyk,
the lean and hungry conspirator, now occupied himself vigorously in
engaging the assassins, while his corpulent colleague remained as
treasurer of the company. Two brothers Blansaerts, woollen manufacturers
at Leyden--one of whom had been a student of theology in the Remonstrant
Church and had occasionally preached--and a certain William Party, a
Walloon by birth, but likewise a woollen worker at Leyden, agreed to the
secretary's propositions. He had at first told, them that their services
would be merely required for the forcible liberation of two Remonstrant
clergymen, Niellius and Poppius, from the prison at Haarlem. Entertaining
his new companions at dinner, however, towards the end of January, van
Dyk, getting very drunk, informed them that the object of the enterprise
was to kill the Stadholder; that arrangements had been made for effecting
an immediate change in the magistracies in all the chief cities of
Holland so soon as the deed was done; that all the recently deposed
regents would enter the Hague at once, supported by a train of armed
peasants from the country; and that better times for the oppressed
religion, for the Fatherland, and especially for everyone engaged in the
great undertaking, would begin with the death of the tyrant. Each man
taking direct part in the assassination would receive at least 300
guilders, besides being advanced to offices of honour and profit
according to his capacity.

The Blansaerts assured their superior that entire reliance might be
placed on their fidelity, and that they knew of three or four other men
in Leyden "as firm as trees and fierce as lions," whom they would
engage--a fustian worker, a tailor, a chimney-sweeper, and one or two
other mechanics. The looseness and utter recklessness with which this
hideous conspiracy was arranged excites amazement. Van Dyk gave the two
brothers 100 pistoles in gold--a coin about equal to a guinea--for their
immediate reward as well as for that of the comrades to be engaged. Yet
it seems almost certain from subsequent revelations that they were
intending all the time to deceive him, to take as much money as they
could get from him, "to milk, the cow as long as she would give milk," as
William Party expressed it, and then to turn round upon and betray him.
It was a dangerous game however, which might not prove entirely
successful.

Van Dyk duly communicated with Stoutenburg, who grew more and more
feverish with hatred and impatience as the time for gratifying those
passions drew nigh, and frequently said that he would like to tear the
Stadholder to pieces with his own hands. He preferred however to act as
controlling director over the band of murderers now enrolled.

For in addition to the Leyden party, the Reverend Slatius, supplied with
funds by van Dyk, had engaged at Rotterdam his brother-in-law Gerritsen,
a joiner, living in that city, together with three sailors named
respectively Dirk, John, and Herman.

The ex-clergyman's house was also the arsenal of the conspiracy,
and here were stored away a stock of pistols, snaphances, and
sledge-hammers--together with that other death-dealing machinery, the
whole edition of the 'Clearshining Torch', an inflammatory, pamphlet by
Slatius--all to be used on the fatal day fast approaching.

On the 1st February van Dyk visited Slatius at Rotterdam. He found
Gerritsen hard at work.

There in a dark back kitchen, by the lurid light of the fire in a dim
wintry afternoon, stood the burly Slatius, with his swarthy face and
heavy eyebrows, accompanied by his brother-in-law the joiner, both in
workman's dress, melting lead, running bullets, drying powder, and
burnishing and arranging the fire-arms and other tools to be used in the
great crime now so rapidly maturing. The lean, busy, restless van Dyk,
with his adust and sinister visage, came peering in upon the couple thus
engaged, and observed their preparations with warm approval.

He recommended that in addition to Dirk, John, and Herman, a few more
hardy seafaring men should be engaged, and Slatius accordingly secured
next day the services of one Jerome Ewouts and three other sailors. They
were not informed of the exact nature of the enterprise, but were told
that it was a dangerous although not a desperate one, and sure to be of
great service to the Fatherland. They received, as all the rest had done,
between 200 and 300 guilders in gold, that they would all be promoted to
be captains and first mates.

It was agreed that all the conspirators should assemble four days later
at the Hague on Sunday, the 5th February, at the inn of the "Golden
Helmet." The next day, Monday the 6th, had been fixed by Stoutenburg for
doing the deed. Van Dyk, who had great confidence in the eloquence of
William Party, the Walloon wool manufacturer, had arranged that he should
make a discourse to them all in a solitary place in the downs between
that city and the sea-shore, taking for his theme or brief the
Clearshining Torch of Slatius.

On Saturday that eminent divine entertained his sister and her husband
Gerritsen, Jerome Ewouts, who was at dinner but half informed as to the
scope of the great enterprise, and several other friends who were
entirely ignorant of it. Slatius was in high spirits, although his
sister, who had at last become acquainted with the vile plot, had done
nothing but weep all day long. They had better be worms, with a promise
of further reward and an intimation she said, and eat dirt for their
food, than crawl in so base a business. Her brother comforted her with
assurances that the project was sure to result in a triumph for religion
and Fatherland, and drank many healths at his table to the success of all
engaged in it. That evening he sent off a great chest filled with arms
and ammunition to the "Golden Helmet" at the Hague under the charge of
Jerome Ewouts and his three mates. Van Dyk had already written a letter
to the landlord of that hostelry engaging a room there, and saying that
the chest contained valuable books and documents to be used in a lawsuit,
in which he was soon to be engaged, before the supreme tribunal.

On the Sunday this bustling conspirator had John Blansaert and William
Party to dine with him at the "Golden Helmet" in the Hague, and produced
seven packages neatly folded, each containing gold pieces to the amount
of twenty pounds sterling. These were for themselves and the others whom
they had reported as engaged by them in Leyden. Getting drunk as usual,
he began to bluster of the great political revolution impending, and
after dinner examined the carbines of his guests. He asked if those
weapons were to be relied upon. "We can blow a hair to pieces with them
at twenty paces," they replied. "Ah! would that I too could be of the
party," said van Dyk, seizing one of the carbines. "No, no," said John
Blansaert, "we can do the deed better without you than with you. You must
look out for the defence."

Van Dyk then informed them that they, with one of the Rotterdam sailors,
were to attack Maurice as he got out of his coach at Ryswyk, pin him
between the stables and the coach, and then and there do him to death.
"You are not to leave him," he cried, "till his soul has left his body."

The two expressed their hearty concurrence with this arrangement, and
took leave of their host for the night, going, they said, to distribute
the seven packages of blood-money. They found Adam Blansaert waiting for
them in the downs, and immediately divided the whole amount between
themselves and him--the chimney-sweeper, tailor, and fustian worker,
"firm as trees and fierce as lions," having never had any existence save
in their fertile imaginations.

On Monday, 6th February, van Dyk had a closing interview with Stoutenburg
and his brother at the house of Groeneveld, and informed them that the
execution of the plot had been deferred to the following day. Stoutenburg
expressed disgust and impatience at the delay. "I should like to tear the
Stadholder to pieces with my own hands!" he cried. He was pacified on
hearing that the arrangements had been securely made for the morrow, and
turning to his brother observed, "Remember that you can never retract.
You are in our power and all your estates at our mercy." He then
explained the manner in which the magistracies of Leyden, Gouda,
Rotterdam, and other cities were to be instantly remodelled after the
death of Maurice, the ex-regents of the Hague at the head of a band of
armed peasants being ready at a moment's warning to take possession of
the political capital.

Prince Frederic Henry moreover, he hinted darkly and falsely, but in a
manner not to be mistaken, was favourable to the movement, and would
after the murder of Maurice take the government into his hands.

Stoutenburg then went quietly home to pass the day and sleep at his
mother's house awaiting the eventful morning of Tuesday.

Van Dyk went back to his room at the "Golden Helmet" and began inspecting
the contents of the arms and ammunition chest which Jerome Ewouts and his
three mates had brought the night before from Rotterdam. He had been
somewhat unquiet at having seen nothing of those mariners during the day;
when looking out of window, he saw one of them in conference with some
soldiers. A minute afterwards he heard a bustle in the rooms below, and
found that the house was occupied by a guard, and that Gerritsen, with
the three first engaged sailors Dirk, Peter, and Herman, had been
arrested at the Zotje. He tried in vain to throw the arms back into the
chest and conceal it under the bed, but it was too late. Seizing his hat
and wrapping himself in his cloak, with his sword by his side, he walked
calmly down the stairs looking carelessly at the group of soldiers and
prisoners who filled the passages. A waiter informed the provost-marshal
in command that the gentleman was a respectable boarder at the tavern,
well known to him for many years. The conspirator passed unchallenged and
went straight to inform Stoutenburg.

The four mariners, last engaged by Slatius at Rotterdam, had signally
exemplified the danger of half confidences. Surprised that they should
have been so mysteriously entrusted with the execution of an enterprise
the particulars of which were concealed from them, and suspecting that
crime alone could command such very high prices as had been paid and
promised by the ex-clergyman, they had gone straight to the residence of
the Stadholder, after depositing the chest at the "Golden Helmet."

Finding that he had driven as usual to Ryswyk, they followed him thither,
and by dint of much importunity obtained an audience. If the enterprise
was a patriotic one, they reasoned, he would probably know of it and
approve it. If it were criminal, it would be useful for them to reveal
and dangerous to conceal it.

They told the story so far as they knew it to the Prince and showed him
the money, 300 florins apiece, which they had already received from
Slatius. Maurice hesitated not an instant. It was evident that a dark
conspiracy was afoot. He ordered the sailors to return to the Hague by
another and circuitous road through Voorburg, while he lost not a moment
himself in hurrying back as fast as his horses would carry him. Summoning
the president and several councillors of the chief tribunal, he took
instant measures to take possession of the two taverns, and arrest all
the strangers found in them.

Meantime van Dyk came into the house of the widow Barneveld and found
Stoutenburg in the stable-yard. He told him the plot was discovered, the
chest of arms at the "Golden Helmet" found. "Are there any private
letters or papers in the bog?" asked Stoutenburg. "None relating to the
affair," was the answer.

"Take yourself off as fast as possible," said Stoutenburg. Van Dyk needed
no urging. He escaped through the stables and across the fields in the
direction of Leyden. After skulking about for a week however and making
very little progress, he was arrested at Hazerswoude, having broken
through the ice while attempting to skate across the inundated and frozen
pastures in that region.

Proclamations were at once made, denouncing the foul conspiracy in which
the sons of the late Advocate Barneveld, the Remonstrant clergyman
Slatius, and others, were the ringleaders, and offering 4000 florins each
for their apprehension. A public thanksgiving for the deliverance was
made in all the churches on the 8th February.

On the 12th February the States-General sent letters to all their
ambassadors and foreign agents, informing them of this execrable plot to
overthrow the Commonwealth and take the life of the Stadholder, set on
foot by certain Arminian preachers and others of that faction, and this
too in winter, when the ice and snow made hostile invasion practicable,
and when the enemy was encamped in so many places in the neighbourhood.
"The Arminians," said the despatch, "are so filled with bitterness that
they would rather the Republic should be lost than that their pretended
grievances should go unredressed." Almost every pulpit shook with
Contra-Remonstrant thunder against the whole society of Remonstrants, who
were held up to the world as rebels and prince-murderers; the criminal
conspiracy being charged upon them as a body. Hardly a man of that
persuasion dared venture into the streets and public places, for fear of
being put to death by the rabble. The Chevalier William of Nassau,
natural son of the Stadholder, was very loud and violent in all the
taverns and tap-rooms, drinking mighty draughts to the damnation of the
Arminians.

Many of the timid in consequence shrank away from the society and joined
the Contra-Remonstrant Church, while the more courageous members,
together with the leaders of that now abhorred communion, published long
and stirring appeals to the universal sense of justice, which was
outraged by the spectacle of a whole sect being punished for a crime
committed by a few individuals, who had once been unworthy members of it.

Meantime hue and cry was made after the fugitive conspirators. The
Blansaerts and William Party having set off from Leyden towards the Hague
on Monday night, in order, as they said, to betray their employers, whose
money they had taken, and whose criminal orders they had agreed to
execute, attempted to escape, but were arrested within ten days. They
were exhibited at their prison at Amsterdam to an immense concourse at a
shilling a peep, the sums thus collected being distributed to the poor.
Slatius made his way disguised as a boor into Friesland, and after
various adventures attempted to cross the Bourtange Moors to Lingen.
Stopping to refresh himself at a tavern near Koevorden, he found himself
in the tap-room in presence of Quartermaster Blau and a company of
soldiers from the garrison. The dark scowling boor, travel-stained and
weary, with felt hat slouched over his forbidding visage, fierce and
timorous at once like a hunted wild beast, excited their suspicion.
Seeing himself watched, he got up, paid his scot, and departed, leaving
his can of beer untasted. This decided the quartermaster, who accordingly
followed the peasant out of the house, and arrested him as a Spanish spy
on the watch for the train of specie which the soldiers were then
conveying into Koevorden Castle.

Slatius protested his innocence of any such design, and vehemently
besought the officer to release him, telling him as a reason for his
urgency and an explanation of his unprepossessing aspect--that he was an
oculist from Amsterdam, John Hermansen by name, that he had just
committed a homicide in that place, and was fleeing from justice.

The honest quartermaster saw no reason why a suspected spy should go free
because he proclaimed himself a murderer, nor why an oculist should
escape the penalties of homicide. "The more reason," he said, "why thou
shouldst be my prisoner." The ex-preacher was arrested and shut up in the
state prison at the Hague.

The famous engraver Visser executed a likeness on copper-plate of the
grim malefactor as he appeared in his boor's disguise. The portrait,
accompanied by a fiercely written broadsheet attacking the Remonstrant
Church, had a great circulation, and deepened the animosity against the
sect upon which the unfrocked preacher had sworn vengeance. His evil face
and fame thus became familiar to the public, while the term Hendrik Slaet
became a proverb at pot-houses, being held equivalent among tipplers to
shirking the bottle.

Korenwinder, the treasurer of the association, coming to visit
Stoutenburg soon after van Dyk had left him, was informed of the
discovery of the plot and did his best to escape, but was arrested within
a fortnight's time.

Stoutenburg himself acted with his usual promptness and coolness. Having
gone straightway to his brother to notify him of the discovery and to
urge him to instant flight, he contrived to disappear. A few days later a
chest of merchandise was brought to the house of a certain citizen of
Rotterdam, who had once been a fiddler, but was now a man of considerable
property. The chest, when opened, was found to contain the Seigneur de
Stoutenburg, who in past times had laid the fiddler under obligations,
and in whose house he now lay concealed for many days, and until the
strictness with which all roads and ferries in the neighbourhood were
watched at first had somewhat given way. Meantime his cousin van der
Dussen had also effected his escape, and had joined him in Rotterdam. The
faithful fiddler then, for a thousand florins, chartered a trading vessel
commanded by one Jacob Beltje to take a cargo of Dutch cheese to Wesel on
the Rhine. By this means, after a few adventures, they effected their
escape, and, arriving not long afterwards at Brussels, were formally
taken under the protection of the Archduchess Isabella.

Stoutenburg afterwards travelled in France and Italy, and returned to
Brussels. His wife, loathing his crime and spurning all further
communication with him, abandoned him to his fate. The daughter of Marnix
of Sainte-Aldegonde had endured poverty, obscurity, and unmerited
obloquy, which had become the lot of the great statesman's family after
his tragic end, but she came of a race that would not brook dishonour.
The conspirator and suborner of murder and treason, the hirer and
companion of assassins, was no mate for her.

Stoutenburg hesitated for years as to his future career, strangely enough
keeping up a hope of being allowed to return to his country.

Subsequently he embraced the cause of his country's enemies, converted
himself to the Roman Church, and obtained a captaincy of horse in the
Spanish service. He was seen one day, to the disgust of many spectators,
to enter Antwerp in black foreign uniform, at the head of his troopers,
waving a standard with a death's-head embroidered upon it, and wearing,
like his soldiers, a sable scarf and plume. History disdains to follow
further the career of the renegade, traitor, end assassin.

When the Seigneur de Groeneveld learned from his younger brother, on the
eventful 6th of February, that the plot had been discovered, he gave
himself up for lost. Remorse and despair, fastening upon his naturally
feeble character, seemed to render him powerless. His wife, of more
hopeful disposition than himself and of less heroic mould than Walburg de
Marnix, encouraged him to fly. He fled accordingly, through the desolate
sandy downs which roll between the Hague and the sea, to Scheveningen,
then an obscure fishing village on the coast, at a league's distance from
the capital. Here a fisherman, devoted to him and his family, received
him in his hut, disguised him in boatman's attire, and went with him to
the strand, proposing to launch his pinkie, put out at once to sea, and
to land him on the English coast, the French coast, in Hamburg--where he
would.

The sight of that long, sandy beach stretching for more than seventy
miles in an unbroken, melancholy line, without cove, curve, or
indentation to break its cruel monotony, and with the wild waves of the
German Ocean, lashed by a wintry storm, breaking into white foam as far
as the eye could reach, appalled the fugitive criminal. With the
certainty of an ignominious death behind him, he shrank abjectly from the
terrors of the sea, and, despite the honest fisherman's entreaties,
refused to enter the boat and face the storm. He wandered feebly along
the coast, still accompanied by his humble friend, to another little
village, where the fisherman procured a waggon, which took them as far as
Sandvoort. Thence he made his way through Egmond and Petten and across
the Marsdiep to Tegel, where not deeming himself safe he had himself
ferried over to the neighbouring island of Vlieland. Here amongst the
quicksands, whirlpools, and shallows which mark the last verge of
habitable Holland, the unhappy fugitive stood at bay.

Meantime information had come to the authorities that a suspicious
stranger had been seen at Scheveningen. The fisherman's wife was
arrested. Threatened with torture she at last confessed with whom her
husband had fled and whither. Information was sent to the bailiff of
Vlieland, who with a party of followers made a strict search through his
narrow precincts. A group of seamen seated on the sands was soon
discovered, among whom, dressed in shaggy pea jacket with long
fisherman's boots, was the Seigneur de Groeneveld, who, easily recognized
through his disguise, submitted to his captors without a struggle. The
Scheveningen fisherman, who had been so faithful to him, making a sudden
spring, eluded his pursuers and disappeared; thus escaping the gibbet
which would probably have been his doom instead of the reward of 4000
golden guilders which he might have had for betraying him. Thus a sum
more than double the amount originally furnished by Groeneveld, as the
capital of the assassination company, had been rejected by the Rotterdam
boatman who saved Stoutenburg, and by the Scheveningen fisherman who was
ready to save Groeneveld. On the 19th February, within less than a
fortnight from the explosion of the conspiracy, the eldest son of
Barneveld was lodged in the Gevangen Poort or state prison of the Hague.

The awful news of the 6th February had struck the widow of Barneveld as
with a thunderbolt. Both her sons were proclaimed as murderers and
suborners of assassins, and a price put upon their heads. She remained
for days neither speaking nor weeping; scarcely eating, drinking, or
sleeping. She seemed frozen to stone. Her daughters and friends could not
tell whether she were dying or had lost her reason. At length the escape
of Stoutenburg and the capture of Groeneveld seemed to rouse her from her
trance. She then stooped to do what she had sternly refused to do when
her husband was in the hands of the authorities. Accompanied by the wife
and infant son of Groeneveld she obtained an audience of the stern
Stadholder, fell on her knees before him, and implored mercy and pardon
for her son.

Maurice received her calmly and not discourteously, but held out no hopes
of pardon. The criminal was in the hands of justice, he said, and he had
no power to interfere. But there can scarcely be a doubt that he had
power after the sentence to forgive or to commute, and it will be
remembered that when Barneveld himself was about to suffer, the Prince
had asked the clergyman Walaeus with much anxiety whether the prisoner in
his message had said nothing of pardon.

Referring to the bitter past, Maurice asked Madame de Barneveld why she
not asked mercy for her son, having refused to do so for her husband.

Her answer was simple and noble:

"My husband was innocent of crime," she said; "my son is guilty."

The idea of pardon in this case was of course preposterous. Certainly if
Groeneveld had been forgiven, it would have been impossible to punish the
thirteen less guilty conspirators, already in the hands of justice, whom
he had hired to commit the assassination. The spectacle of the two
cowardly ringleaders going free while the meaner criminals were gibbeted
would have been a shock to the most rudimentary ideas of justice. It
would have been an equal outrage to pardon the younger Barnevelds for
intended murder, in which they had almost succeeded, when their great
father had already suffered for a constructive lese-majesty, the guilt of
which had been stoutly denied. Yet such is the dreary chain of cause and
effect that it is certain, had pardon been nobly offered to the
statesman, whose views of constitutional law varied from those of the
dominant party, the later crime would never have been committed. But
Francis Aerssens--considering his own and other partisans lives at stake
if the States' right party did not fall--had been able to bear down all
thoughts of mercy. He was successful, was called to the house of nobles,
and regained the embassy of Paris, while the house of Barneveld was
trodden into the dust of dishonour and ruin. Rarely has an offended
politician's revenge been more thorough than his. Never did the mocking
fiend betray his victims into the hands of the avenger more sardonically
than was done in this sombre tragedy.

The trials of the prisoners were rapidly conducted. Van Dyk, cruelly
tortured, confessed on the rack all the details of the conspiracy as they
were afterwards embodied in the sentences and have been stated in the
preceding narrative. Groeneveld was not tortured. His answers to the
interrogatories were so vague as to excite amazement at his general
ignorance of the foul transaction or at the feebleness of his memory,
while there was no attempt on his part to exculpate himself from the
damning charge. That it was he who had furnished funds for the proposed
murder and mutiny, knowing the purpose to which they were to be applied,
was proved beyond all cavil and fully avowed by him.

On the 28th May, he, Korenwinder, and van Dyk were notified that they
were to appear next day in the courthouse to hear their sentence, which
would immediately afterwards be executed.

That night his mother, wife, and son paid him a long visit of farewell in
his prison. The Gevangen Poort of the Hague, an antique but mean building
of brown brick and commonplace aspect, still stands in one of the most
public parts of the city. A gloomy archway, surmounted by windows grimly
guarded by iron lattice-work, forms the general thoroughfare from the
aristocratic Plaats and Kneuterdyk and Vyverberg to the inner court of
the ancient palace. The cells within are dark, noisome, and dimly
lighted, and even to this day the very instruments of torture, used in
the trials of these and other prisoners, may be seen by the curious. Half
a century later the brothers de Witt were dragged from this prison to be
literally torn to pieces by an infuriated mob.

The misery of that midnight interview between the widow of Barneveld, her
daughter-in-law, and the condemned son and husband need not be described.
As the morning approached, the gaoler warned the matrons to take their
departure that the prisoner might sleep.

"What a woful widow you will be," said Groeneveld to his wife, as she
sank choking with tears upon the ground. The words suddenly aroused in
her the sense of respect for their name.

"At least for all this misery endured," she said firmly, "do me enough
honour to die like a gentleman." He promised it. The mother then took
leave of the son, and History drops a decorous veil henceforth over the
grief-stricken form of Mary of Barneveld.

Next morning the life-guards of the Stadholder and other troops were
drawn up in battle-array in the outer and inner courtyard of the supreme
tribunal and palace. At ten o'clock Groeneveld came forth from the
prison. The Stadholder had granted as a boon to the family that he might
be neither fettered nor guarded as he walked to the tribunal. The
prisoner did not forget his parting promise to his wife. He appeared
full-dressed in velvet cloak and plumed hat, with rapier by his side,
walking calmly through the inner courtyard to the great hall. Observing
the windows of the Stadholder's apartments crowded with spectators, among
whom he seemed to recognize the Prince's face, he took off his hat and
made a graceful and dignified salute. He greeted with courtesy many
acquaintances among the crowd through which he passed. He entered the
hall and listened in silence to the sentence condemning him to be
immediately executed with the sword. Van Dyk and Korenwinder shared the
same doom, but were provisionally taken back to prison.

Groeneveld then walked calmly and gracefully as before from the hall to
the scaffold, attended by his own valet, and preceded by the
provost-marshal and assistants. He was to suffer, not where his father
had been beheaded, but on the "Green Sod." This public place of execution
for ordinary criminals was singularly enough in the most elegant and
frequented quarter of the Hague. A few rods from the Gevangen Poort, at
the western end of the Vyverberg, on the edge of the cheerful triangle
called the Plaats, and looking directly down the broad and stately
Kneuterdyk, at the end of which stood Aremberg House, lately the
residence of the great Advocate, was the mean and sordid scaffold.

Groeneveld ascended it with perfect composure. The man who had been
browbeaten into crime by an overbearing and ferocious brother, who had
quailed before the angry waves of the North Sea, which would have borne
him to a place of entire security, now faced his fate with a smile upon
his lips. He took off his hat, cloak, and sword, and handed them to his
valet. He calmly undid his ruff and wristbands of pointlace, and tossed
them on the ground. With his own hands and the assistance of his servant
he unbuttoned his doublet, laying breast and neck open without suffering
the headsman's hands to approach him.

He then walked to the heap of sand and spoke a very few words to the vast
throng of spectators.

"Desire of vengeance and evil counsel," he said, "have brought me here.
If I have wronged any man among you, I beg him for Christ's sake to
forgive me."

Kneeling on the sand with his face turned towards his father's house at
the end of the Kneuterdyk, he said his prayers. Then putting a red velvet
cap over his eyes, he was heard to mutter:

"O God! what a man I was once, and what am I now?"

Calmly folding his hands, he said, "Patience."

The executioner then struck off his head at a blow. His body, wrapped in
a black cloak, was sent to his house and buried in his father's tomb.

Van Dyk and Korenwinder were executed immediately afterwards. They were
quartered and their heads exposed on stakes. The joiner Gerritsen and the
three sailors had already been beheaded. The Blansaerts and William
Party, together with the grim Slatius, who was savage and turbulent to
the last, had suffered on the 5th of May.

Fourteen in all were executed for this crime, including an unfortunate
tailor and two other mechanics of Leyden, who had heard something
whispered about the conspiracy, had nothing whatever to do with it, but
from ignorance, apathy, or timidity did not denounce it. The ringleader
and the equally guilty van der Dussen had, as has been seen, effected
their escape.

Thus ended the long tragedy of the Barnevelds. The result of this foul
conspiracy and its failure to effect the crime proposed strengthened
immensely the power, popularity, and influence of the Stadholder, made
the orthodox church triumphant, and nearly ruined the sect of the
Remonstrants, the Arminians--most unjustly in reality, although with a
pitiful show of reason--being held guilty of the crime of Stoutenburg and
Slatius.

The Republic--that magnificent commonwealth which in its infancy had
confronted, single-handed, the greatest empire of the earth, and had
wrested its independence from the ancient despot after a forty years'
struggle--had now been rent in twain, although in very unequal portions,
by the fiend of political and religious hatred. Thus crippled, she was to
go forth and take her share in that awful conflict now in full blaze, and
of which after-ages were to speak with a shudder as the Thirty Years'
War.

     ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

     Argument in a circle
     He that stands let him see that he does not fall
     If he has deserved it, let them strike off his head
     Misery had come not from their being enemies
     O God! what does man come to!
     Party hatred was not yet glutted with the blood it had drunk
     Rose superior to his doom and took captivity captive
     This, then, is the reward of forty years' service to the State
     To milk, the cow as long as she would give milk




     ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS, ENTIRE JOHN OF BARNEVELD, 1614-23:

     Acts of violence which under pretext of religion
     Adulation for inferiors whom they despise
     Affection of his friends and the wrath of his enemies
     And give advice. Of that, although always a spendthrift
     Argument in a circle
     Better to be governed by magistrates than mobs
     Burning with bitter revenge for all the favours he had received
     Calumny is often a stronger and more lasting power than disdain
     Casual outbursts of eternal friendship
     Changed his positions and contradicted himself day by day
     Conciliation when war of extermination was intended
     Considered it his special mission in the world to mediate
     Created one child for damnation and another for salvation
     Death rather than life with a false acknowledgment of guilt
     Denoungced as an obstacle to peace
     Depths theological party spirit could descend
     Depths of credulity men in all ages can sink
     Devote himself to his gout and to his fair young wife
     Enemy of all compulsion of the human conscience
     Extraordinary capacity for yielding to gentle violence
     France was mourning Henry and waiting for Richelieu
     Furious mob set upon the house of Rem Bischop
     Hardly a sound Protestant policy anywhere but in Holland
     He that stands let him see that he does not fall
     Heidelberg Catechism were declared to be infallible
     Highborn demagogues in that as in every age affect adulation
     History has not too many really important and emblematic men
     Human nature in its meanness and shame
     I hope and I fear
     I know how to console myself
     If he has deserved it, let them strike off his head
     Implication there was much, of assertion very little
     In this he was much behind his age or before it
     It had not yet occurred to him that he was married
     John Robinson
     King who thought it furious madness to resist the enemy
     Logic is rarely the quality on which kings pride themselves
     Magistracy at that moment seemed to mean the sword
     Make the very name of man a term of reproach
     Misery had come not from their being enemies
     Mockery of negotiation in which nothing could be negotiated
     More apprehension of fraud than of force
     Necessity of deferring to powerful sovereigns
     Never lack of fishers in troubled waters
     Not his custom nor that of his councillors to go to bed
     O God! what does man come to!
     Only true religion
     Opening an abyss between government and people
     Opposed the subjection of the magistracy by the priesthood
     Partisans wanted not accommodation but victory
     Party hatred was not yet glutted with the blood it had drunk
     Pot-valiant hero
     Puritanism in Holland was a very different thing from England
     Rather a wilderness to reign over than a single heretic
     Resolve to maintain the civil authority over the military
     Rose superior to his doom and took captivity captive
     Seemed bent on self-destruction
     Stand between hope and fear
     Successful in this step, he is ready for greater ones
     Tempest of passion and prejudice
     That he tries to lay the fault on us is pure malice
     The magnitude of this wonderful sovereign's littleness
     The effect of energetic, uncompromising calumny
     The evils resulting from a confederate system of government
     This, then, is the reward of forty years' service to the State
     This wonderful sovereign's littleness oppresses the imagination
     To milk, the cow as long as she would give milk
     To stifle for ever the right of free enquiry
     William Brewster
     Wise and honest a man, although he be somewhat longsome
     Yes, there are wicked men about
     Yesterday is the preceptor of To-morrow




     ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS, ENTIRE JOHN OF BARNEVELD 1609-1623:

     Abstinence from inquisition into consciences and private parlour
     Acts of violence which under pretext of religion
     Adulation for inferiors whom they despise
     Advanced orthodox party-Puritans
     Affection of his friends and the wrath of his enemies
     Allowed the demon of religious hatred to enter into its body
     Almost infinite power of the meanest of passions
     And give advice. Of that, although always a spendthrift
     And now the knife of another priest-led fanatic
     Argument in a circle
     Aristocracy of God's elect
     As with his own people, keeping no back-door open
     At a blow decapitated France
     Atheist, a tyrant, because he resisted dictation from the clergy
     Behead, torture, burn alive, and bury alive all heretics
     Better to be governed by magistrates than mobs
     Burning with bitter revenge for all the favours he had received
     Calumny is often a stronger and more lasting power than disdain
     Casual outbursts of eternal friendship
     Changed his positions and contradicted himself day by day
     Christian sympathy and a small assistance not being sufficient
     Conciliation when war of extermination was intended
     Conclusive victory for the allies seemed as predestined
     Considered it his special mission in the world to mediate
     Contained within itself the germs of a larger liberty
     Could not be both judge and party in the suit
     Covered now with the satirical dust of centuries
     Created one child for damnation and another for salvation
     Deadly hatred of Puritans in England and Holland
     Death rather than life with a false acknowledgment of guilt
     Denoungced as an obstacle to peace
     Depths of credulity men in all ages can sink
     Depths theological party spirit could descend
     Determined to bring the very name of liberty into contempt
     Devote himself to his gout and to his fair young wife
     Disputing the eternal damnation of young children
     Doctrine of predestination in its sternest and strictest sense
     Emperor of Japan addressed him as his brother monarch
     Enemy of all compulsion of the human conscience
     Epernon, the true murderer of Henry
     Estimating his character and judging his judges
     Everybody should mind his own business
     Extraordinary capacity for yielding to gentle violence
     Fate, free will, or absolute foreknowledge
     Father Cotton, who was only too ready to betray the secrets
     France was mourning Henry and waiting for Richelieu
     Furious mob set upon the house of Rem Bischop
     Give him advice if he asked it, and money when he required
     Great war of religion and politics was postponed
     Hardly a sound Protestant policy anywhere but in Holland
     He was not imperial of aspect on canvas or coin
     He who would have all may easily lose all
     He who spreads the snare always tumbles into the ditch himself
     He was a sincere bigot
     He that stands let him see that he does not fall
     Heidelberg Catechism were declared to be infallible
     Highborn demagogues in that as in every age affect adulation
     History has not too many really important and emblematic men
     Human nature in its meanness and shame
     I know how to console myself
     I hope and I fear
     If he has deserved it, let them strike off his head
     Impatience is often on the part of the non-combatants
     Implication there was much, of assertion very little
     In this he was much behind his age or before it
     Intense bigotry of conviction
     International friendship, the self-interest of each
     It had not yet occurred to him that he was married
     It was the true religion, and there was none other
     James of England, who admired, envied, and hated Henry
     Jealousy, that potent principle
     Jesuit Mariana--justifying the killing of excommunicated kings
     John Robinson
     King who thought it furious madness to resist the enemy
     King's definite and final intentions, varied from day to day
     Language which is ever living because it is dead
     Logic is rarely the quality on which kings pride themselves
     Louis XIII.
     Ludicrous gravity
     Magistracy at that moment seemed to mean the sword
     Make the very name of man a term of reproach
     Misery had come not from their being enemies
     Mockery of negotiation in which nothing could be negotiated
     More apprehension of fraud than of force
     More fiercely opposed to each other than to Papists
     Most detestable verses that even he had ever composed
     Necessity of deferring to powerful sovereigns
     Neither kings nor governments are apt to value logic
     Never lack of fishers in troubled waters
     No man pretended to think of the State
     No man can be neutral in civil contentions
     No synod had a right to claim Netherlanders as slaves
     None but God to compel me to say more than I choose to say
     Not his custom nor that of his councillors to go to bed
     O God! what does man come to!
     Only true religion
     Opening an abyss between government and people
     Opposed the subjection of the magistracy by the priesthood
     Outdoing himself in dogmatism and inconsistency
     Partisans wanted not accommodation but victory
     Party hatred was not yet glutted with the blood it had drunk
     Philip IV.
     Pot-valiant hero
     Power the poison of which it is so difficult to resist
     Practised successfully the talent of silence
     Presents of considerable sums of money to the negotiators made
     Priests shall control the state or the state govern the priests
     Princes show what they have in them at twenty-five or never
     Puritanism in Holland was a very different thing from England
     Putting the cart before the oxen
     Queen is entirely in the hands of Spain and the priests
     Rather a wilderness to reign over than a single heretic
     Religion was made the strumpet of Political Ambition
     Religious toleration, which is a phrase of insult
     Resolve to maintain the civil authority over the military
     Rose superior to his doom and took captivity captive
     Safest citadel against an invader and a tyrant is distrust
     Schism in the Church had become a public fact
     Secure the prizes of war without the troubles and dangers
     Seemed bent on self-destruction
     Senectus edam maorbus est
     She declined to be his procuress
     Small matter which human folly had dilated into a great one
     Smooth words, in the plentiful lack of any substantial
     So much in advance of his time as to favor religious equality
     Stand between hope and fear
     Stroke of a broken table knife sharpened on a carriage wheel
     Successful in this step, he is ready for greater ones
     Tempest of passion and prejudice
     That he tries to lay the fault on us is pure malice
     That cynical commerce in human lives
     The effect of energetic, uncompromising calumny
     The evils resulting from a confederate system of government
     The vehicle is often prized more than the freight
     The voice of slanderers
     The truth in shortest about matters of importance
     The assassin, tortured and torn by four horses
     The defence of the civil authority against the priesthood
     The magnitude of this wonderful sovereign's littleness
     The Catholic League and the Protestant Union
     Their own roofs were not quite yet in a blaze
     Theological hatred was in full blaze throughout the country
     Theology and politics were one
     There was no use in holding language of authority to him
     There was but one king in Europe, Henry the Bearnese
     Therefore now denounced the man whom he had injured
     They have killed him, 'e ammazato,' cried Concini
     Things he could tell which are too odious and dreadful
     Thirty Years' War tread on the heels of the forty years
     This wonderful sovereign's littleness oppresses the imagination
     This, then, is the reward of forty years' service to the State
     To milk, the cow as long as she would give milk
     To stifle for ever the right of free enquiry
     To look down upon their inferior and lost fellow creatures
     Uncouple the dogs and let them run
     Unimaginable outrage as the most legitimate industry
     Vows of an eternal friendship of several weeks' duration
     What could save the House of Austria, the cause of Papacy
     Whether repentance could effect salvation
     Whether dead infants were hopelessly damned
     Whose mutual hatred was now artfully inflamed by partisans
     William Brewster
     Wise and honest a man, although he be somewhat longsome
     Wish to appear learned in matters of which they are ignorant
     Work of the aforesaid Puritans and a few Jesuits
     Wrath of the Jesuits at this exercise of legal authority
     Yes, there are wicked men about
     Yesterday is the preceptor of To-morrow







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