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