CHAPTER XLVI.

General desire for peace--Political aspect of Europe--Designs of the

kings of England, France, and Spain concerning the United Provinces

--Matrimonial schemes of Spain--Conference between the French

ministers and the Dutch envoy--Confidential revelations--Henry's

desire to annex the Netherlands to France--Discussion of the

subject--Artifice of Barneveld--Impracticability of a compromise

between the Provinces and Spain--Formation of a West India Company--

Secret mission from the archdukes to the Hague--Reply of the States-

General--Return of the archdukes' envoy--Arrangement of an eight

months' armistice.

The general tendency towards a pacification in Europe at the close of the

year could hardly be mistaken. The languor of fatigue, rather than any

sincere desire for peace seemed to make negotiations possible. It was not

likely that great truths would yet be admitted, or that ruling

individuals or classes would recognise the rise of a new system out of

the rapidly dissolving elements of the one which had done its work. War

was becoming more and more expensive, while commerce, as the world slowly

expanded itself, and manifested its unsuspected resources, was becoming

more and more lucrative. It was not, perhaps, that men hated each other

less, but that they had for a time exhausted their power and their love

for slaughter. Meanwhile new devices for injuring humanity and retarding

its civilization were revealing themselves out of that very intellectual

progress which ennobled the new era. Although war might still be regarded

as the normal condition of the civilized world, it was possible for the

chosen ones to whom the earth and its fulness belonged, to inflict

general damage otherwise than by perpetual battles.

In the east, west, north, and south of Europe peace was thrusting itself

as it were uncalled for and unexpected upon the general attention.

Charles and his nephew Sigismund, and the false Demetrius, and the

intrigues of the Jesuits, had provided too much work for Sweden, Poland,

and Russia to leave those countries much leisure for mingling in the more

important business of Europe at this epoch, nor have their affairs much

direct connection with this history. Venice, in its quarrels with the

Jesuits, had brought Spain, France, and all Italy into a dead lock, out

of which a compromise had been made not more satisfactory to the various

parties than compromises are apt to prove. The Dutch republic still

maintained the position which it had assumed, a quarter of a century

before, of actual and legal independence; while Spain, on the other hand,

still striving after universal monarchy, had not, of course, abated one

jot of its pretensions to absolute dominion over its rebellious subjects

in the Netherlands.

The holy Roman and the sublime Ottoman empires had also drifted into

temporary peace; the exploits of the Persians and other Asiatic movements

having given Ahmed more work than was convenient on his eastern frontier,

while Stephen Botshkay had so completely got the better of Rudolph in

Transylvania as to make repose desirable. So there was a treaty between

the great Turk and the great Christian on the basis of what each

possessed; Stephen Botshkay was recognized as prince of Transylvania with

part of Hungary, and, when taken off soon afterwards by family poison, he

recommended on his death-bed the closest union between Hungary and

Transylvania, as well as peace with the emperor, so long as it might be

compatible with the rights of the Magyars.

France and England, while suspecting each other, dreading each other, and

very sincerely hating each other, were drawn into intimate relations by

their common detestation of Spain, with which power both had now formal

treaties of alliance and friendship. This was the result of their mighty

projects for humbling the house of Austria and annihilating its power.

England hated the Netherlands because of the injuries she had done them,

the many benefits she had conferred upon them, and more than all on

account of the daily increasing commercial rivalry between the two most

progressive states in Christendom, the two powers which, comparatively

weak as they were in territory, capital, and population, were most in

harmony with the spirit of the age.

The Government of England was more hostile than its people to the United

Provinces. James never spoke of the Netherlanders but as upstarts and

rebels, whose success ought to be looked upon with horror by the Lord's

anointed everywhere. He could not shut his eyes to the fact that, with

the republic destroyed, and a Spanish sacerdotal despotism established in

Holland and Zeeland, with Jesuit seminaries in full bloom in Amsterdam

and the Hague, his own rebels in Ireland might prove more troublesome

than ever, and gunpowder plots in London become common occurrences.

The Earl of Tyrone at that very moment was receiving enthusiastic

hospitality at the archduke's court, much to the disgust of the

Presbyterian sovereign of the United Kingdom, who nevertheless, despite

his cherished theology, was possessed with an unconquerable craving for a

close family alliance with the most Catholic king. His ministers were

inclined to Spain, and the British Government was at heart favourable to

some kind of arrangement by which the Netherlands might be reduced to the

authority of their former master, in case no scheme could be carried

into, effect for acquiring a virtual sovereignty over those provinces by

the British crown. Moreover, and most of all, the King of France being

supposed to contemplate the annexation of the Netherlands to his own

dominions, the jealousy excited by such ambition made it even possible

for James's Government to tolerate the idea of Dutch independence. Thus

the court and cabinet of England were as full of contradictory hopes and

projects as a madman's brain.

The rivalry between the courts of England and France for the Spanish

marriages and by means of them to obtain ultimately the sovereignty of

all the Netherlands, was the key to most of the diplomacy and

interpalatial intrigue of the several first years of the century. The

negotiations of Cornwallis at Madrid were almost simultaneous with the

schemes of Villeroy and Rosny at Paris.

A portion of the English Government, so soon as its treaty with Spain had

been signed, seemed secretly determined to do as much injury to the

republic as might lie in its power. While at heart convinced that the

preservation of the Netherlands was necessary for England's safety, it

was difficult for James and the greater part of his advisers to overcome

their repugnance to the republic, and their jealousy of the great

commercial successes which the republic had achieved.

It was perfectly plain that a continuance of the war by England and the

Netherlands united would have very soon ended in the entire humiliation

of Spain. Now that peace had been made, however, it was thought possible

that England might make a bargain with her late enemy for destroying the

existence and dividing the territory of her late ally. Accordingly the

Spanish cabinet lost no time in propounding, under seal of secrecy, and

with even more mystery than was usually employed by the most Catholic

court, a scheme for the marriage of the Prince of Wales with the Infanta;

the bridal pair, when arrived at proper age, to be endowed with all the

Netherlands, both obedient and republican, in full sovereignty. One thing

was necessary to the carrying out of this excellent plot, the reduction

of the republic into her ancient subjection to Spain before her territory

could be transferred to the future Princess of Wales.

It was proposed by the Spanish Government that England should undertake

this part of the job, and that King James for such service should receive

an annual pension of one million ducats a year. It was also stipulated

that certain cities in the republican dominions should be pledged to him

as security for the regular payment of that stipend. Sir Charles

Cornwallis, English ambassador in Spain, lent a most favourable ear to

these proposals, and James eagerly sanctioned them so soon as they were

secretly imparted to that monarch. "The king here," said Cornwallis,

"hath need of the King of Great Britain's arm. Our king . . . hath good

occasion to use the help of the King of Spain's purse. The assistance of

England to help that nation out of that quicksand of the Low Countries,

where so long they have struggled to tread themselves out, and by proof

find that deeper in, will be a sovereign medicine to the malady of this

estate. The addition of a million of ducats to the revenue of our

sovereign will be a good help to his estate."

The Spanish Government had even the effrontery to offer the English envoy

a reward of two hundred thousand crowns if the negotiations should prove

successful. Care was to be taken however that Great Britain, by this

accession of power, both present and in prospect, should not grow too

great, Spain reserving to herself certain strongholds and maritime

positions in the Netherlands, for the proper security of her European and

Indian commerce.

It was thought high time for the bloodshed to cease in the provinces; and

as England, by making a treaty of peace with Spain when Spain was at the

last gasp, had come to the rescue of that power, it was logical that she

should complete the friendly work by compelling the rebellious provinces

to awake from their dream of independence. If the statesmen of Holland

believed in the possibility of that independence, the statesmen of

England knew better. If the turbulent little republic was not at last

convinced that it had no right to create so much turmoil and

inconvenience for its neighbours and for Christendom in general in order

to maintain its existence, it should be taught its duty by the sovereigns

of Spain and Britain.

It was observed, however, that the more greedily James listened day after

day to the marriage propositions, the colder became the Spanish cabinet

in regard to that point, the more disposed to postpone those nuptials "to

God's providence and future event."

The high hopes founded on these secret stratagems were suddenly dashed to

the earth before the end of the year; the explosion of the Gunpowder Plot

blowing the castles in Spain into the air.

Of course the Spanish politicians vied with each other in expressions of

horror and indignation at the Plot, and the wicked contrivers thereof,

and suggested to Cornwallis that the King of France was probably at the

bottom of it.

They declined to give up Owen and Baldwin, however, and meantime the

negotiations for the marriage of the Prince of Wales and the Infanta, the

million ducats of yearly pension for the needy James, and the reduction

of the Dutch republic to its ancient slavery to Spain "under the eye and

arm of Britain," faded indefinitely away. Salisbury indeed was always too

wise to believe in the possibility of the schemes with which James and

some of his other counsellors had been so much infatuated.

It was almost dramatic that these plottings between James and the

Catholic king against the life of the republic should have been signally

and almost simultaneously avenged by the conspiracy of Guido Fawkes.

On the other hand, Rosny had imparted to the Dutch envoy the schemes of

Henry and his ministers in regard to the same object, early in 1605.

"Spain is more tired of the war," said he to Aerssens, under seal of

absolute secrecy, "than you are yourselves. She is now negotiating for a

marriage between the Dauphin and the Infanta, and means to give her the

United Provinces, as at present constituted, for a marriage portion.

Villeroy and Sillery believe the plan feasible, but demand all the

Netherlands together. As for me I shall have faith in it if they send

their Infanta hither at once, or make a regular cession of the territory.

Do you believe that my lords the States will agree to the proposition?"

It would be certainly difficult to match in history the effrontery of

such a question. The republican envoy was asked point blank whether his

country would resign her dearly gained liberty and give herself as a

dowry for Philip the Second's three-years-old grand daughter. Aerssens

replied cautiously that he had never heard the matter discussed in the

provinces. It had always been thought that the French king had no

pretensions to their territory, but had ever advocated their

independence. He hinted that such a proposition was a mere apple of

discord thrown between two good allies by Spain. Rosny admitted the

envoy's arguments, and said that his Majesty would do nothing without the

consent of the Dutch Government, and that he should probably be himself

sent ere long to the Hague to see if he could not obtain some little

recognition from the States.

Thus it was confidentially revealed to the agent of the republic that her

candid adviser and ally was hard at work, in conjunction with her ancient

enemy, to destroy her independence, annex her territory, and appropriate

to himself all the fruits of her great war, her commercial achievements,

and her vast sacrifices; while, as we have just seen, English politicians

at the same moment were attempting to accomplish the same feat for

England's supposed advantage. All that was wished by Henry to begin with

was a little, a very little, recognition of his sovereignty. "You will do

well to reflect on this delicate matter in time," wrote Aerssens to the

Advocate; "I know that the King of Spain is inclined to make this offer,

and that they are mad enough in this place to believe the thing feasible.

For me, I reject all such talk until they have got the Infanta--that is

to say, until the Greek Kalends. I am ashamed that they should believe it

here, and fearful that there is still more evil concealed than I know

of."

Towards the close of the year 1606 the French Government became still

more eager to carry out their plans of alliance and absorption. Aerssens,

who loved a political intrigue better than became a republican envoy, was

perfectly aware of Henry's schemes. He was disposed to humour them, in

order to make sure of his military assistance, but with the secret

intention of seeing them frustrated by the determined opposition of the

States.

The French ministers, by command of their sovereign, were disposed to

deal very plainly. They informed the Dutch diplomatist, with very little

circumlocution, that if the republic wished assistance from France she

was to pay a heavy price for it. Not a pound of flesh only, but the whole

body corporate, was to be surrendered if its destruction was to be

averted by French arms.

"You know," said Sillery, "that princes in all their actions consider

their interests, and his Majesty has not so much affection for your

conservation as to induce him to resign his peaceful position. Tell me, I

pray you, what would you do for his Majesty in case anything should be

done for you? You were lately in Holland. Do you think that they would

give themselves to the king if he assisted them? Do you not believe that

Prince Maurice has designs on the sovereignty, and would prevent the

fulfilment of the king's hopes? What will you do for us in return for our

assistance?"

Aerssens was somewhat perplexed, but he was cunning at fence. "We will do

all we can," said he, "for any change is more supportable than the yoke

of Spain."

"What can you do then?" persisted Sillery. "Give us your opinion in plain

French, I beg of you, and lay aside all passion; for we have both the

same object--your preservation. Besides interest, his Majesty has

affection for you. Let him only see some advantage for himself to induce

to assist you more powerfully. Suppose you should give us what you have

and what you may acquire in Flanders with the promise to treat secretly

with us when the time comes. Could you do that?"

The envoy replied that this would be tearing the commonwealth in pieces.

If places were given away, the jealousy of the English would be excited.

Certainly it would be no light matter to surrender Sluys, the fruit of

Maurice's skill and energy, the splendidly earned equivalent for the loss

of Ostend. "As to Sluys and other places in Flanders," said Aerssens, "I

don't know if towns comprised in our Union could be transferred or

pledged without their own consent and that of the States. Should such a

thing get wind we might be ruined. Nevertheless I will write to learn

what his Majesty may hope."

"The people," returned Sillery, "need know nothing of this transfer; for

it might be made secretly by Prince Maurice, who could put the French

quietly into Sluys and other Flemish places. Meantime you had best make a

journey to Holland to arrange matters so that the deputies, coming

hither, may be amply instructed in regard to Sluys, and no time be lost.

His Majesty is determined to help you if you know how to help

yourselves."

The two men then separated, Sillery enjoining it upon the envoy to see

the king next morning, "in order to explain to his Majesty, as he had

just been doing to himself, that this sovereignty could not be

transferred, without the consent of the whole people, nor the people be

consulted in secret."

"It is necessary therefore to be armed," continued Henry's minister very

significantly, "before aspiring to the sovereignty."

Thus there was a faint glimmer of appreciation at the French court of the

meaning of popular sovereignty. It did not occur to the minister that the

right of giving consent was to be respected. The little obstacle was to

be overcome by stratagem and by force. Prince Maurice was to put French

garrisons stealthily into Sluys and other towns conquered by the republic

in Flanders. Then the magnanimous ally was to rise at the right moment

and overcome all resistance by force of arms. The plot was a good one. It

is passing strange, however, that the character of the Nassaus and of the

Dutch nation should after the last fifty years have been still so

misunderstood. It seemed in France possible that Maurice would thus

defile his honour and the Netherlanders barter their liberty, by

accepting a new tyrant in place of the one so long ago deposed.

"This is the marrow of our conference," said Aerssens to Barneveld,

reporting the interview, "and you may thus perceive whither are tending

the designs of his Majesty. It seems that they are aspiring here to the

sovereignty, and all my letters have asserted the contrary. If you will

examine a little more closely, however, you will find that there is no

contradiction. This acquisition would be desirable for France if it could

be made peacefully. As it can only be effected by war you may make sure

that it will not be attempted; for the great maxim and basis of this

kingdom is to preserve repose, and at the same time give such occupation

to the King of Spain that his means shall be consumed and his designs

frustrated. All this will cease if we make peace.

"Thus in treating with the king we must observe two rules. The first is

that we can maintain ourselves no longer unless powerfully assisted, and

that, the people inclining to peace, we shall be obliged to obey the

people. Secondly, we must let no difficulty appear as to the desire

expressed by his Majesty to have the sovereignty of these provinces. We

ought to let him hope for it, but to make him understand that by ordinary

and legitimate means he cannot aspire to it. We will make him think that

we have an equal desire with himself, and we shall thus take from those

evil-disposed counsellors the power to injure us who are always

persuading him that he is only making us great for ourselves, and thus

giving us the power to injure him. In short, the king can hope nothing

from us overtly, and certainly nothing covertly. By explaining to him

that we require the authorization of the people, and by showing ourselves

prompt to grant his request, he will be the very first to prevent us from

taking any steps, in order that his repose may not be disturbed. I know

that France does not wish to go to war with Spain. Let us then pretend

that we wish to be under the dominion of France, and that we will lead

our people to that point if the king desires it, but that it cannot be

done secretly. Believe me, he will not wish it on such conditions, while

we shall gain much by this course. Would to God that we could engage

France in war with Spain. All the utility would be ours; and the

accidents of arms would so press them to Spain, Italy, and other places,

that they would have little leisure to think of us. Consider all this and

conceal it from Buzanval."

Buzanval, it is well known, was the French envoy at the Hague, and it

must be confessed that these schemes and paltry falsehoods on the part of

the Dutch agent were as contemptible as any of the plots contrived every

day in Paris or Madrid. Such base coin as this was still circulating in

diplomacy as if fresh from the Machiavellian mint; but the republican

agent ought to have known that his Government had long ago refused to

pass it current.

Soon afterwards this grave matter was discussed at the Hague between

Henry's envoy and Barneveld. It was a very delicate negotiation. The

Advocate wished to secure the assistance of a powerful but most

unscrupulous ally, and at the same time to conceal his real intention to

frustrate the French design upon the independence of the republic.

Disingenuous and artful as his conduct unquestionably was, it may at

least be questioned whether in that age of deceit any other great

statesman would have been more frank. If the comparatively weak

commonwealth, by openly and scornfully refusing all the insidious and

selfish propositions of the French king, had incurred that monarch's

wrath, it would have taken a noble position no doubt, but it would have

perhaps been utterly destroyed. The Advocate considered himself justified

in using the artifices of war against a subtle and dangerous enemy who

wore the mask of a friend. When the price demanded for military

protection was the voluntary abandonment of national independence in

favour of the protector, the man who guided the affairs of the

Netherlands did not hesitate to humour and to outwit the king who strove

to subjugate the republic. At the same time--however one may be disposed

to censure the dissimulation from the standing-ground of a lofty

morality--it should not be forgotten that Barneveld never hinted at any

possible connivance on his part with an infraction of the laws. Whatever

might be the result of time, of persuasion, of policy, he never led Henry

or his ministers to believe that the people of the Netherlands could be

deprived of their liberty by force or fraud. He was willing to play a

political game, in which he felt himself inferior to no man, trusting to

his own skill and coolness for success. If the tyrant were defeated, and

at the same time made to serve the cause of the free commonwealth, the

Advocate believed this to be fair play.

Knowing himself surrounded by gamblers and tricksters, he probably did

not consider himself to be cheating because he did not play his cards

upon the table.

So when Buzanval informed him early in October that the possession of

Sluys and other Flemish towns would not be sufficient for the king, but

that they must offer the sovereignty on even more favourable conditions

than had once been proposed to Henry III., the Advocate told him roundly

that my lords the States were not likely to give the provinces to any

man, but meant to maintain their freedom and their rights. The envoy

replied that his Majesty would be able to gain more favour perhaps with

the common people of the country.

When it is remembered that the States had offered the sovereignty of the

provinces to Henry III., abjectly and as it were without any conditions

at all, the effrontery of Henry IV. may be measured, who claimed the same

sovereignty, after twenty years of republican independence, upon even

more favourable terms than those which his predecessor had rejected.

Barneveld, in order to mitigate the effect of his plump refusal of the

royal overtures, explained to Buzanval, what Buzanval very well knew,

that the times had now changed; that in those days, immediately after the

death of William the Silent, despair and disorder had reigned in the

provinces, "while that dainty delicacy--liberty--had not so long been

sweetly tickling the appetites of the people; that the English had not

then acquired their present footing in the country, nor the house of

Nassau the age, the credit, and authority to which it had subsequently

attained."

He then intimated--and here began the deception, which certainly did not

deceive Buzanval--that if things were handled in the right way, there was

little doubt as to the king's reaching the end proposed, but that all

depended on good management. It was an error, he said, to suppose that in

one, two, or three months, eight provinces and their principal members,

to wit, forty good cities all enjoying liberty and equality, could be

induced to accept a foreign sovereign.

Such language was very like irony, and probably not too subtle to escape

the fine perception of the French envoy.

The first thing to be done, continued the Advocate, is to persuade the

provinces to aid the king with all their means to conquer the disunited

provinces--to dispose of the archdukes, in short, and to drive the

Spaniards from the soil--and then, little by little, to make it clear

that there could be no safety for the States except in reducing the whole

body of the Netherlands under the authority of the king. Let his Majesty

begin by conquering and annexing to his crown the provinces nearest him,

and he would then be able to persuade the others to a reasonable

arrangement.

Whether the Advocate's general reply was really considered by Buzanval as

a grave sarcasm, politely veiled, may be a question. That envoy, however,

spoke to his Government of the matter as surrounded with difficulties,

but not wholly desperate. Barneveld was, he said, inclined to doubt

whether the archdukes would be able, before any negotiations were begun,

to comply with the demand which he had made upon them to have a

declaration in writing that the United Provinces were to be regarded as a

free people over whom they pretended to no authority. If so, the French

king would at once be informed of the fact. Meantime the envoy expressed

the safe opinion that, if Prince Maurice and the Advocate together should

take the matter of Henry's sovereignty in hand with zeal, they might

conduct the bark to the desired haven. Surely this was an 'if' with much

virtue in it. And notwithstanding that he chose to represent Barneveld

as, rich, tired, at the end of his Latin, and willing enough to drop his

anchor in a snug harbour, in order to make his fortune secure, it was

obvious enough that Buzanval had small hope at heart of seeing his

master's purpose accomplished.

As to Prince Maurice, the envoy did not even affect to believe him

capable of being made use of, strenuous as the efforts of the French

Government in that direction had been. "He has no private designs that I

can find out," said Buzanval, doing full justice to the straightforward

and sincere character of the prince. "He asks no change for himself or

for his country." The envoy added, as a matter of private opinion

however, that if an alteration were to be made in the constitution of the

provinces, Maurice would prefer that it should be made in favour of

France than of any other Government.

He lost no opportunity, moreover, of impressing it upon his Government

that if the sovereignty were to be secured for France at all, it could

only be done by observing great caution, and by concealing their desire

to swallow the republic of which they were professing themselves the

friends. The jealousy of England was sure to be awakened if France

appeared too greedy at the beginning. On the other hand, that power

"might be the more easily rocked into a profound sleep if France did not

show its appetite at the very beginning of the banquet." That the policy

of France should be steadily but stealthily directed towards getting

possession of as many strong places as possible in the Netherlands had

long been his opinion. "Since we don't mean to go to war," said he a year

before to Villeroy, "let us at least follow the example of the English,

who have known how to draw a profit out of the necessities of this state.

Why should we not demand, or help ourselves to, a few good cities. Sluys,

for example, would be a security for us, and of great advantage."

Suspicion was rife on this subject at the court of Spain. Certainly it

would be less humiliating to the Catholic crown to permit the

independence of its rebellious subjects than to see them incorporated

into the realms of either France or England. It is not a very striking

indication of the capacity of great rulers to look far into the future

that both, France and England should now be hankering after the

sovereignty of those very provinces, the solemn offer of which by the

provinces themselves both France and England had peremptorily and almost

contemptuously refused.

In Spain itself the war was growing very wearisome. Three hundred

thousand dollars a month could no longer be relied upon from the royal

exchequer, or from the American voyages, or from the kite-flying

operations of the merchant princes on the Genoa exchange.

A great fleet, to be sure, had recently arrived, splendidly laden, from

the West Indies, as already stated. Pagan slaves, scourged to their

dreadful work, continued to supply to their Christian taskmasters the

hidden treasures of the New World in exchange for the blessings of the

Evangel as thus revealed; but these treasures could never fill the

perpetual sieve of the Netherland war, rapidly and conscientiously as

they were poured into it, year after year.

The want of funds in the royal exchequer left the soldiers in Flanders

unpaid, and as an inevitable result mutiny admirably organized and calmly

defiant was again established throughout the obedient provinces. This

happened regularly once a year, so that it seemed almost as business-like

a proceeding for an Eletto to proclaim mutiny as for a sovereign to

declare martial law. Should the whole army mutiny at once, what might

become of the kingdom of Spain?

Moreover, a very uneasy feeling was prevalent that, as formerly, the

Turks had crossed the Hellespont into Europe by means of a Genoese

alliance and Genoese galleys, so now the Moors were contemplating the

reconquest of Granada, and of their other ancient possessions in Spain,

with the aid of the Dutch republic and her powerful fleets.--[Grotius,

xv. 715]

The Dutch cruisers watched so carefully on the track of the

homeward-bound argosies, that the traffic was becoming more dangerous

than lucrative, particularly since the public law established by Admiral

Fazardo, that it was competent for naval commanders to hang, drown, or

burn the crews of the enemy's merchantmen.

The Portuguese were still more malcontent than the Spaniards. They had

gained little by the absorption of their kingdom by Spain, save

participation in the war against the republic, the result of which had

been to strip them almost entirely of the conquests of Vasco de Gama and

his successors, and to close to them the ports of the Old World and the

New.

In the republic there was a party for peace, no doubt, but peace only

with independence. As for a return to their original subjection to Spain

they were unanimously ready to accept forty years more of warfare rather

than to dream of such a proposition. There were many who deliberately

preferred war to peace. Bitter experience had impressed very deeply on

the Netherlanders the great precept that faith would never be kept with

heretics. The present generation had therefore been taught from their

cradles to believe that the word peace in Spanish mouths simply meant the

Holy Inquisition. It was not unnatural, too, perhaps, that a people who

had never known what it was to be at peace might feel, in regard to that

blessing, much as the blind or the deaf towards colour or music; as

something useful and agreeable, no doubt, but with which they might the

more cheerfully dispense, as peculiar circumstances had always kept them

in positive ignorance of its nature. The instinct of commercial

greediness made the merchants of Holland and Zeeland, and especially

those of Amsterdam, dread the revival of Antwerp in case of peace, to the

imagined detriment of the great trading centres of the republic. It was

felt also to be certain that Spain, in case of negotiations, would lay

down as an indispensable preliminary the abstinence on the part of the

Netherlanders from all intercourse with the Indies, East or West; and

although such a prohibition would be received by those republicans with

perfect contempt, yet the mere discussion of the subject moved their

spleen. They had already driven the Portuguese out of a large portion of

the field in the east, and they were now preparing by means of the same

machinery to dispute the monopoly of the Spaniards in the west. To talk

of excluding such a people as this from intercourse with any portion of

the Old World or the New was the mumbling of dotage; yet nothing could be

more certain than that such would be the pretensions of Spain.

As for the stadholder, his vocation was war, his greatness had been

derived from war, his genius had never turned itself to pacific pursuits.

Should a peace be negotiated, not only would his occupation be gone, but

he might even find himself hampered for means. It was probable that his

large salaries, as captain and admiral-general of the forces of the

republic, would be seriously curtailed, in case his services in the field

were no longer demanded, while such secret hopes as he might entertain of

acquiring that sovereign power which Barneveld had been inclined to

favour, were more likely to be fulfilled if the war should be continued.

At the same time, if sovereignty were to be his at all, he was distinctly

opposed to such limitations of his authority as were to have been

proposed by the States to his father. Rather than reign on those

conditions, he avowed that he would throw himself head foremost from the

great tower of Hague Castle.

Moreover, the prince was smarting under the consciousness of having lost

military reputation, however undeservedly, in the latter campaigns, and

might reasonably hope to gain new glory in the immediate future. Thus,

while his great rival, Marquis Spinola, whose fame had grown to so

luxuriant a height in so brief a period, had many reasons to dread the

results of future campaigning, Maurice seemed to have personally much to

lose and nothing to hope for in peace. Spinola was over head and ears in

debt. In the past two years he had spent millions of florins out of his

own pocket. His magnificent fortune and boundless credit were seriously

compromised. He had found it an easier task to take Ostend and relieve

Grol than to bolster up the finances of Spain.

His acceptances were becoming as much a drug upon the exchanges of

Antwerp, Genoa, or Augsburg, as those of the most Catholic king or their

Highnesses the archdukes. Ruin stared him in the face, notwithstanding

the deeds with which he had startled the world, and he was therefore

sincerely desirous of peace, provided, of course, that all those

advantages for which the war had been waged in vain could now be secured

by negotiation.

There had been, since the arrival of the Duke of Alva in the Netherlands,

just forty years of fighting. Maurice and the war had been born in the

same year, and it would be difficult for him to comprehend that his whole

life's work had been a superfluous task, to be rubbed away now with a

sponge. Yet that Spain, on the entrance to negotiations, would demand of

the provinces submission to her authority, re-establishment of the

Catholic religion, abstinence from Oriental or American commerce, and the

toleration of Spanish soldiers over all the Netherlands, seemed

indubitable.

It was equally unquestionable that the seven provinces would demand

recognition of their national independence by Spain, would refuse public

practice of the Roman religion within their domains, and would laugh to

scorn any proposed limitations to their participation in the world's

traffic. As to the presence of Spanish troops on their soil, that was, of

course, an inconceivable idea.

Where, then, could even a loophole be found through which the possibility

of a compromise could be espied? The ideas of the contending parties were

as much opposed to each other as fire and snow. Nevertheless, the great

forces of the world seemed to have gradually settled into such an

equilibrium as to make the continuance of the war for the present

impossible.

Accordingly, the peace-party in Brussels had cautiously put forth its

tentacles late in 1606, and again in the early days of the new year.

Walrave van Wittenhorst and Doctor Gevaerts had been allowed to come to

the Hague, ostensibly on private business, but with secret commission

from the archdukes to feel and report concerning the political

atmosphere. They found that it was a penal offence in the republic to

talk of peace or of truce. They nevertheless suspected that there might

be a more sympathetic layer beneath the very chill surface which they

everywhere encountered. Having intimated in the proper quarters that the

archdukes would be ready to receive or to appoint commissioners for peace

or armistice, if becoming propositions should be made, they were allowed

on the 10th of January, 1607, to make a communication to the

States-General. They indulged in the usual cheap commonplaces on the

effusion of blood, the calamities of war, and the blessings of peace, and

assured the States of the very benignant disposition of their Highnesses

at Brussels.

The States-General, in their reply, seventeen days afterwards, remarking

that the archdukes persisted in their unfounded pretensions of authority

over them, took occasion to assure their Highnesses that they had no

chance to obtain such authority except by the sword. Whether they were

like to accomplish much in that way the history of the past might

sufficiently indicate, while on the other hand the States would always

claim the right, and never renounce the hope, of recovering those

provinces which had belonged to their free commonwealth since the union

of Utrecht, and which force and fraud had torn away.

During twenty-five years that union had been confirmed as a free state by

solemn decrees, and many public acts and dealings with the mightiest

potentates of Europe, nor could any other answer now be made to the

archdukes than the one always given to his holy Roman Imperial Majesty,

and other princes, to wit, that no negotiations could be had with powers

making any pretensions in conflict with the solemn decrees and

well-maintained rights of the United Netherlands.

It was in this year that two words became more frequent in the mouths of

men than they had ever been before; two words which as the ages rolled on

were destined to exercise a wider influence over the affairs of this

planet than was yet dreamed of by any thinker in Christendom. Those words

were America and Virginia. Certainly both words were known before,

although India was the more general term for these auriferous regions of

the west, which, more than a century long, had been open to European

adventure, while the land, baptized in honour of the throned Vestal, had

been already made familiar to European ears by the exploits of Raleigh.

But it was not till 1607 that Jamestown was founded, that Captain John

Smith's adventures with Powhattan, "emperor of Virginia," and his

daughter the Princess Pocahontas, became fashionable topics in England,

that the English attempts to sail up the Chickahominy to the Pacific

Ocean--as abortive as those of the Netherlanders to sail across the North

Pole to Cathay--were creating scientific discussion in Europe, and that

the first cargo of imaginary gold dust was exported from the James River.

With the adventurous minds of England all aflame with enthusiasm for

those golden regions, with the thick-coming fancies for digging, washing,

refining the precious sands of Virginia rivers, it was certain that a

great rent was now to be made in the Borgian grant. It was inevitable

that the rivalry of the Netherlanders should be excited by the

achievements and the marvellous tales of Englishmen beyond the Atlantic,

and that they too should claim their share of traffic with that golden

and magnificent Unknown which was called America. The rivalry between

England and Holland, already so conspicuous in the spicy Archipelagos of

the east, was now to be extended over the silvery regions of the west.

The two leading commercial powers of the Old World were now to begin

their great struggle for supremacy in the western hemisphere.

A charter for what was called a West India Company was accordingly

granted by the States-General. West India was understood to extend from

the French settlements in Newfoundland or Acadia, along the American

coast to the Straits of Magellan, and so around to the South Sea,

including the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, besides all of Africa lying

between the tropic of Cancer and the Cape of Good Hope. At least, within

those limits the West India Company was to have monopoly of trade, all

other Netherlanders being warned off the precincts. Nothing could be more

magnificent, nor more vague.

The charter was for thirty-six years. The company was to maintain armies

and fleets, to build forts and cities, to carry on war, to make treaties

of peace and of commerce. It was a small peripatetic republic of

merchants and mariners, evolved out of the mother republic--which had at

last established its position among the powers of Christendom--and it was

to begin its career full grown and in full armour.

The States-General were to furnish the company at starting with one

million of florins and with twenty ships of war. The company was to add

twenty other ships. The Government was to consist of four chambers of

directors. One-half the capital was to be contributed by the chamber of

Amsterdam, one-quarter by that of Zeeland, one-eighth respectively by the

chambers of the Meuse and of North Holland. The chambers of Amsterdam, of

Zeeland, of the Meuse, and of North Holland were to have respectively

thirty, eighteen, fifteen, and fifteen directors. Of these seventy-eight,

one-third were to be replaced every sixth year by others, while from the

whole number seventeen persons were to be elected as a permanent board of

managers. Dividends were to be made as soon as the earnings amounted to

ten per cent. on the capital. Maritime judges were to decide upon prizes,

the proceeds of which were not to be divided for six years, in order that

war might be self-sustaining. Afterwards, the treasury of the United

Provinces should receive one-tenth, Prince Maurice one-thirtieth, and the

merchant stockholders the remainder. Governors and generals were to take

the oath of fidelity to the States-General. The merchandize of the

company was to be perpetually free of taxation, so far as regarded old

duties, and exempt from war-taxes for the first twenty years.

Very violent and conflicting were the opinions expressed throughout the

republic in regard to this project. It was urged by those most in favour

of it that the chief sources of the greatness of Spain would be thus

transferred to the States-General; for there could be no doubt that the

Hollanders, unconquerable at sea, familiar with every ocean-path, and

whose hardy constitutions defied danger and privation and the extremes of

heat and cold, would easily supplant the more delicately organized

adventurers from Southern Europe, already enervated by the exhausting

climate of America. Moreover, it was idle for Spain to attempt the

defence of so vast a portion of the world. Every tribe over which she had

exercised sway would furnish as many allies for the Dutch company as it

numbered men; for to obey and to hate the tyrannical Spaniard were one.

The republic would acquire, in reality, the grandeur which with Spain was

but an empty boast, would have the glory of transferring the great war

beyond the limits of home into those far distant possessions, where the

enemy deemed himself most secure, and would teach the true religion to

savages sunk in their own superstitions, and still further depraved by

the imported idolatries of Rome. Commerce was now world-wide, and the

time had come for the Netherlanders, to whom the ocean belonged, to tear

out from the pompous list of the Catholic king's titles his appellation

of Lord of the Seas.

There were others, however, whose language was not so sanguine. They

spoke with a shiver of the inhabitants of America, who hated all men,

simply because they were men, or who had never manifested any love for

their species except as an article of food. To convert such cannibals to

Christianity and Calvinism would be a hopeless endeavour, and meanwhile

the Spaniards were masters of the country. The attempt to blockade half

the globe with forty galleots was insane; for, although the enemy had not

occupied the whole territory, he commanded every harbour and position of

vantage. Men, scarcely able to defend inch by inch the meagre little

sandbanks of their fatherland, who should now go forth in hopes to

conquer the world, were but walking in their sleep. They would awake to

the consciousness of ruin.

Thus men in the United Provinces spake of America. Especially Barneveld

had been supposed to be prominent among the opponents of the new Company,

on the ground that the more violently commercial ambition excited itself

towards wider and wilder fields of adventure, the fainter grew

inclinations for peace. The Advocate, who was all but omnipotent in

Holland and Zeeland, subsequently denied the imputation of hostility to

the new corporation, but the establishment of the West India Company,

although chartered, was postponed.

The archdukes had not been discouraged by the result of their first

attempts at negotiation, for Wittenhorst had reported a disposition

towards peace as prevalent in the rebellious provinces, so far as he had

contrived, during his brief mission, to feel the public pulse.

On the 6th February, 1607, Werner Cruwel, an insolvent tradesman of

Brussels, and a relative of Recorder Aerssens, father of the envoy at

Paris, made his appearance very unexpectedly at the house of his kinsman

at the Hague. Sitting at the dinner-table, but neither eating nor

drinking, he was asked by his host what troubled him. He replied that he

had a load on his breast. Aerssens begged him, if it was his recent

bankruptcy that oppressed him, to use philosophy and patience. The

merchant answered that he who confessed well was absolved well. He then

took from his pocket-book a letter from President Richardot, and said he

would reveal what he had to say after dinner. The cloth being removed,

and the wife and children of Aerssens having left the room, Cruwel

disclosed that he had been sent by Richardot and Father Neyen on a secret

mission. The recorder, much amazed and troubled, refused to utter a word,

save to ask if Cruwel would object to confer with the Advocate. The

merchant expressing himself as ready for such an interview, the recorder,

although it was late, immediately sent a message to the great statesman.

Barneveld was in bed and asleep, but was aroused to receive the

communication of Aerssens. "We live in such a calumnious time," said the

recorder, "that many people believe that you and I know more of the

recent mission of Wittenhorst than we admit. You had best interrogate

Cruwel in the presence of witnesses. I know not the man's humour, but it

seems to me since his failure, that, in spite of his shy and lumpish

manner, he is false and cunning."

The result was a secret interview, on the 8th February, between Prince

Maurice, Barneveld, and the recorder, in which Cruwel was permitted to

state the object of his mission. He then produced a short memorandum,

signed by Spinola and by Father Neyen, to the effect that the archdukes

were willing to treat for a truce of ten or twelve years, on the sole

condition that the States would abstain from the India navigation. He

exhibited also another paper, signed only by Neyen, in which that friar

proposed to come secretly to the Hague, no one in Brussels to know of the

visit save the archdukes and Spinola; and all in the United Provinces to

be equally ignorant except the prince, the Advocate, and the recorder.

Cruwel was then informed that if Neyen expected to discuss such grave

matters with the prince, he must first send in a written proposal that

could go on all fours and deserve attention. A week afterwards Cruwel

came back with a paper in which Neyen declared himself authorized by the

archdukes to treat with the States on the basis of their liberty and

independence, and to ask what they would give in return for so great a

concession as this renunciation of all right to "the so-called United

Provinces."

This being a step in advance, it was decided to permit the visit of

Neyen. It was, however, the recorded opinion of the distinguished

personages to whom the proposal was made that it was a trick and a

deception. The archdukes would, no doubt, it was said, nominally

recognise the provinces as a free State, but without really meaning it.

Meantime, they would do their best to corrupt the Government and to renew

the war after the republic had by this means been separated from its

friends.

John Neyen, father commissary of the Franciscans, who had thus invited

himself to the momentous conference, was a very smooth Flemish friar, who

seemed admirably adapted, for various reasons, to glide into the rebel

country and into the hearts of the rebels. He was a Netherlander, born at

Antwerp, when Antwerp was a portion of the united commonwealth, of a

father who had been in the confidential service of William the Silent. He

was eloquent in the Dutch language, and knew the character of the Dutch

people. He had lived much at court, both in Madrid and Brussels, and was

familiar with the ways of kings and courtiers. He was a holy man,

incapable of a thought of worldly advancement for himself, but he was a

master of the logic often thought most conclusive in those days; no man

insinuating golden arguments more adroitly than he into half-reluctant

palms. Blessed with a visage of more than Flemish frankness, he had in

reality a most wily and unscrupulous disposition. Insensible to

contumely, and incapable of accepting a rebuff, he could wind back to his

purpose when less supple negotiators would have been crushed.

He was described by his admirers as uniting the wisdom of the serpent

with the guilelessness of the dove. Who better than he then, in this

double capacity, to coil himself around the rebellion, and to carry the

olive-branch in his mouth?

On the 25th February the monk, disguised in the dress of a burgher,

arrived at Ryswick, a village a mile and a half from the Hague. He was

accompanied on the journey by Cruwel, and they gave themselves out as

travelling tradesmen. After nightfall, a carriage having been sent to the

hostelry, according to secret agreement, by Recorder Aerssens, John Neyen

was brought to the Hague. The friar, as he was driven on through these

hostile regions, was somewhat startled, on looking out, to find himself

accompanied by two mounted musketeers on each side of the carriage, but

they proved to have been intended as a protective escort. He was brought

to the recorder's house, whence, after some delay, he was conveyed to the

palace. Here he was received by an unknown and silent attendant, who took

him by the hand and led him through entirely deserted corridors and

halls. Not a human being was seen nor a sound heard until his conductor

at last reached the door of an inner apartment through which he ushered

him, without speaking a syllable. The monk then found himself in the

presence of two personages, seated at a table covered with books and

papers. One was in military undress, with an air about him of habitual

command, a fair-complexioned man of middle age, inclining to baldness,

rather stout, with a large blue eye, regular features, and a

mouse-coloured beard. The other was in the velvet cloak and grave

habiliments of a civil functionary, apparently sixty years of age, with a

massive features, and a shaggy beard. The soldier was Maurice of Nassau,

the statesman was John of Olden-Barneveld.

Both rose as the friar entered, and greeted him with cordiality.

"But," said the prince, "how did you dare to enter the Hague, relying

only on the word of a Beggar?"

"Who would not confide," replied Neyen, "in the word of so exalted, so

respectable a Beggar as you, O most excellent prince?"

With these facetious words began the negotiations through which an

earnest attempt was at last to be made for terminating a seemingly

immortal war. The conversation, thus begun, rolled amicably and

informally along. The monk produced letters from the archdukes, in which,

as he stated, the truly royal soul of the writers shone conspicuously

forth. Without a thought for their own advantage, he observed, and moved

only by a contemplation of the tears shed by so many thousands of beings

reduced to extreme misery, their Highnesses, although they were such

exalted princes, cared nothing for what would be said by the kings of

Europe and all the potentates of the universe about their excessive

indulgence."

"What indulgence do you speak of?" asked the stadholder.

"Does that seem a trifling indulgence," replied John Neyen, "that they

are willing to abandon the right which they inherited from their

ancestors over these provinces, to allow it so easily to slip from their

fingers, to declare these people to be free, over whom, as their subjects

refusing the yoke, they have carried on war so long?"

"It is our right hands that have gained this liberty," said Maurice, "not

the archdukes that have granted it. It has been acquired by our treasure,

poured forth how freely! by the price of our blood, by so many thousands

of souls sent to their account. Alas, how dear a price have we paid for

it! All the potentates of Christendom, save the King of Spain alone, with

his relatives the archdukes, have assented to our independence. In

treating for peace we ask no gift of freedom from the archdukes. We claim

to be regarded by them as what we are--free men. If they are unwilling to

consider us as such, let them subject us to their dominion if they can.

And as we have hitherto done, we shall contend more fiercely for liberty

than for life."

With this, the tired monk was dismissed to sleep off the effects of his

journey and of the protracted discussion, being warmly recommended to the

captain of the citadel, by whom he was treated with every possible

consideration.

Several days of private discussion ensued between Neyen and the leading

personages of the republic. The emissary was looked upon with great

distrust. All schemes of substantial negotiation were regarded by the

public as visions, while the monk on his part felt the need of all his

tact and temper to wind his way out of the labyrinth into which he felt

that he had perhaps too heedlessly entered. A false movement on his part

would involve himself and his masters in a hopeless maze of suspicion,

and make a pacific result impossible.

At length, it having been agreed to refer the matter to the

States-General, Recorder Aerssens waited upon Neyen to demand his

credentials for negotiation. He replied that he had been forbidden to

deliver his papers, but that he was willing to exhibit them to the

States-General.

He came accordingly to that assembly, and was respectfully received. All

the deputies rose, and he was placed in a seat near the presiding

officer. Olden-Barneveld then in a few words told him why he had been

summoned. The monk begged that a want of courtesy might not be imputed to

him, as he had been sent to negotiate with three individuals, not with a

great assembly.

Thus already the troublesome effect of publicity upon diplomacy was

manifesting itself. The many-headed, many-tongued republic was a

difficult creature to manage, adroit as the negotiator had proved himself

to be in gliding through the cabinets and council-chambers of princes and

dealing with the important personages found there.

The power was, however, produced, and handed around the assembly, the

signature and seals being duly inspected by the members. Neyen was then

asked if he had anything to say in public. He replied in the negative,

adding only a few vague commonplaces about the effusion of blood and the

desire of the archdukes for the good of mankind. He was then dismissed.

A few days afterwards a committee of five from the States-General, of

which Barneveld was chairman, conferred with Neyen. He was informed that

the paper exhibited by him was in many respects objectionable, and that

they had therefore drawn up a form which he was requested to lay before

the archdukes for their guidance in making out a new power. He was asked

also whether the king of Spain was a party to these proposals for

negotiation. The monk answered that he was not informed of the fact, but

that he considered it highly probable.

John Neyen then departed for Brussels with the form prescribed by the

States-General in his pocket. Nothing could exceed the indignation with

which the royalists and Catholics at the court of the archdukes were

inspired by the extreme arrogance and obstinacy thus manifested by the

rebellious heretics. That the offer on the part of their master to

negotiate should be received by them with cavils, and almost with

contempt, was as great an offence as their original revolt. That the

servant should dare to prescribe a form for the sovereign to copy seemed

to prove that the world was coming to an end. But it was ever thus with

the vulgar, said the courtiers and church dignitaries, debating these

matters. The insanity of plebeians was always enormous, and never more so

than when fortune for a moment smiled. Full of arrogance and temerity

when affairs were prosperous, plunged in abject cowardice when dangers

and reverses came--such was the People--such it must ever be.

Thus blustered the priests and the parasites surrounding the archduke,

nor need their sentiments amaze us. Could those honest priests and

parasites have ever dreamed, before the birth of this upstart republic,

that merchants, manufacturers, and farmers, mechanics and advocates--the

People, in short--should presume to meddle with affairs of state? Their

vocation had been long ago prescribed--to dig and to draw, to brew and to

bake, to bear burdens in peace and to fill bloody graves in war--what

better lot could they desire?

Meantime their superiors, especially endowed with wisdom by the

Omnipotent, would direct trade and commerce, conduct war and diplomacy,

make treaties, impose taxes, fill their own pockets, and govern the

universe. Was not this reasonable and according to the elemental laws? If

the beasts of the field had been suddenly gifted with speech, and had

constituted themselves into a free commonwealth for the management of

public affairs, they would hardly have caused more profound astonishment

at Brussels and Madrid than had been excited by the proceedings of the

rebellious Dutchmen.

Yet it surely might have been suggested, when the lament of the courtiers

over the abjectness of the People in adversity was so emphatic, that Dorp

and Van Loon, Berendrecht and Gieselles, with the men under their

command, who had disputed every inch of Little Troy for three years and

three months, and had covered those fatal sands with a hundred thousand

corpses, had not been giving of late such evidence of the People's

cowardice in reverses as theory required. The siege of Ostend had been

finished only three years before, and it is strange that its lessons

should so soon have been forgotten.

It was thought best, however, to dissemble. Diplomacy in those

days--certainly the diplomacy of Spain and Rome--meant simply

dissimulation. Moreover, that solid apothegm, 'haereticis non servanda

fides,' the most serviceable anchor ever forged for true believers, was

always ready to be thrown out, should storm or quicksand threaten, during

the intricate voyage to be now undertaken.

John Neyen soon returned to the Hague, having persuaded his masters that

it was best to affect compliance with the preliminary demand of the

States. During the discussions in regard to peace, it would not be

dangerous to treat with the rebel provinces as with free states, over

which the archdukes pretended to no authority, because--so it was

secretly argued--this was to be understood with a sense of similitude.

"We will negotiate with them as if they were free," said the greyfriar to

the archduke and his counsellors, "but not with the signification of true

and legitimate liberty. They have laid down in their formula that we are

to pretend to no authority over them. Very well. For the time being we

will pretend that we do not pretend to any such authority. To negotiate

with them as if they were free will not make them free. It is no

recognition by us that they are free. Their liberty could never be

acquired by their rebellion. This is so manifest that neither the king

nor the archdukes can lose any of their rights over the United Provinces,

even should they make this declaration."

Thus the hair-sputters at Brussels--spinning a web that should be stout

enough to entrap the noisy, blundering republicans at the Hague, yet so

delicate as to go through the finest dialectical needle. Time was to show

whether subtilty or bluntness was the best diplomatic material.

The monk brought with him three separate instruments or powers, to be

used according to his discretion. Admitted to the assembly of the

States-General, he produced number one.

It was instantly rejected. He then offered number two, with the same

result. He now declared himself offended, not on his own account, but for

the sake of his masters, and asked leave to retire from the assembly,

leaving with them the papers which had been so benignantly drawn up, and

which deserved to be more carefully studied.

The States, on their parts, were sincerely and vehemently indignant. What

did all this mean, it was demanded, this producing one set of

propositions after another? Why did the archdukes not declare their

intentions openly and at once? Let the States depart each to the several

provinces, and let John Neyen be instantly sent out of the country. Was

it thought to bait a trap for the ingenuous Netherlanders, and catch them

little by little, like so many wild animals? This was not the way the

States dealt with the archdukes. What they meant they put in

front--first, last, and always. Now and in the future they said and they

would say exactly what they wished, candidly and seriously. Those who

pursued another course would never come into negotiation with them.

The monk felt that he had excited a wrath which it would be difficult to

assuage. He already perceived the difference between a real and an

affected indignation, and tried to devise some soothing remedy. Early

next morning he sent a petition in writing to the States for leave to

make an explanation to the assembly. Barneveld and Recorder Aerssens, in

consequence, came to him immediately, and heaped invectives upon his head

for his duplicity.

Evidently it was a different matter dealing with this many-headed roaring

beast, calling itself a republic, from managing the supple politicians

with whom he was more familiar. The noise and publicity of these

transactions were already somewhat appalling to the smooth friar who was

accustomed to negotiate in comfortable secrecy. He now vehemently

protested that never man was more sincere than he, and implored for time

to send to Brussels for another power. It is true that number three was

still in his portfolio, but he had seen so much indignation on the

production of number two as to feel sure that the fury of the States

would know no bounds should he now confess that he had come provided with

a third.

It was agreed accordingly to wait eight days, in which period he might

send for and receive the new power already in his possession. These

little tricks were considered masterly diplomacy in those days, and by

this kind of negotiators; and such was the way in which it was proposed

to terminate a half century of warfare.

[The narrative is the monk's own, as preserved by his admirer,

the Jesuit Gallucci, (ubi sup.)]

The friar wrote to his masters, not of course to ask for a new power, but

to dilate on the difficulties to be anticipated in procuring that which

the losing party is always most bent upon in circumstances like these,

and which was most ardently desired by the archdukes--an armistice. He

described Prince Maurice as sternly opposed to such a measure, believing

that temporary cessation of hostilities was apt to be attended with

mischievous familiarity between the opposing camps, with relaxation of

discipline, desertion, and various kinds of treachery, and that there was

no better path to peace than that which was trampled by contending hosts.

Seven days passed, and then Neyen informed the States that he had at last

received a power which he hoped would prove satisfactory. Being admitted

accordingly to the assembly, he delivered an eloquent eulogy upon the

sincerity of the archdukes, who, with perhaps too little regard for their

own dignity and authority, had thus, for the sake of the public good, so

benignantly conceded what the States had demanded.

Barneveld, on receiving the new power, handed to Neyen a draught of an

agreement which he was to study at his leisure, and in which he might

suggest alterations. At the same time it was demanded that within three

months the written consent of the King of Spain to the proposed

negotiations should be produced. The Franciscan objected that it did not

comport with the dignity of the archdukes to suppose the consent of any

other sovereign needful to confirm their acts. Barneveld insisted with

much vehemence on the necessity of this condition. It was perfectly

notorious, he said, that the armies commanded by the archdukes were

subject to the King of Spain, and were called royal armies. Prince

Maurice observed that all prisoners taken by him had uniformly called

themselves soldiers of the Crown, not of the archdukes, nor of Marquis

Spinola.

Barneveld added that the royal power over the armies in the Netherlands

and over the obedient provinces was proved by the fact that all

commanders of regiments, all governors of fortresses, especially of

Antwerp, Ghent, Cambray, and the like, were appointed by the King of

Spain. These were royal citadels with royal garrisons. That without the

knowledge and consent of the King of Spain it would be impossible to

declare the United Provinces free, was obvious; for in the cession by

Philip II. of all the Netherlands it was provided that, without the

consent of the king, no part of that territory could be ceded, and this

on pain of forfeiting all the sovereignty. To treat without the king was

therefore impossible.

The Franciscan denied that because the sovereigns of Spain sent funds and

auxiliary troops to Flanders, and appointed military commanders there of

various degrees, the authority of the archdukes was any the less supreme.

Philip II. had sent funds and troops to sustain the League, but he was

not King of France.

Barneveld probably thought it not worth his while to reply that Philip,

with those funds and those troops, had done his best to become King of

France, and that his failure proved nothing for the argument either way.

Neyen then returned once more to Brussels, observing as he took leave

that the decision of the archdukes as to the king's consent was very

doubtful, although he was sure that the best thing for all parties would

be to agree to an armistice out of hand.

This, however, was far from being the opinion of the States or the

stadholder.

After conferring with his masters, the monk came down by agreement from

Antwerp to the Dutch ships which lay in the Scheld before Fort Lillo. On

board one of these, Dirk van der Does had been stationed with a special

commission from the States to compare documents. It was expressly ordered

that in these preliminary negotiations neither party was to go on shore.

On a comparison of the agreement brought by Neyen from Brussels with the

draught furnished by Barneveld, of which Van der Does had a copy, so many

discrepancies appeared that the document of the archdukes was at once

rejected. But of course the monk had a number two, and this, after some

trouble, was made to agree with the prescribed form. Brother John then,

acting upon what he considered the soundest of principles--that no job

was so difficult as not to be accomplished with the help of the precious

metals--offered his fellow negotiator a valuable gold chain as a present

from the archdukes. Dirk van der Does accepted the chain, but gave notice

of the fact to his Government.

The monk now became urgent to accompany his friend to the Hague, but this

had been expressly forbidden by the States. Neyen felt sure, he said, of

being able by arguments, which he could present by word of mouth, to

overcome the opposition to the armistice were he once more to be admitted

to the assembly. Van der Does had already much overstaid his appointed

time, bound to the spot, as it were, by the golden chain thrown around

him by the excellent friar, and he now, in violation of orders, wrote to

the Hague for leave to comply with this request. Pending the answer, the

persuasive Neyen convinced him, much against his will, that they might

both go together as far as Delft. To Delft they accordingly went; but,

within half a league of that place, met a courier with strict orders that

the monk was at once to return to Brussels. Brother John was in great

agitation. Should he go back, the whole negotiation might come to nought;

should he go on, he might be clapped into prison as a spy. Being

conscious, however, that his services as a spy were intended to be the

most valuable part of his mission, he resolved to proceed in that

capacity. So he persuaded his friend Dirk to hide him in the hold of a

canal-boat. Van der Does was in great trepidation himself, but on

reaching the Hague and giving up his gold chain to Barneveld, he made his

peace, and obtained leave for the trembling but audacious friar to come

out of his hiding-place.

Appearing once more before the States-General on the afternoon of 7th

May, Neyen urged with much eloquence the propriety of an immediate

armistice both by sea and land, insisting that it would be a sanguinary

farce to establish a cessation of hostilities upon one element while

blood and treasure were profusely flowing on the oceans. There were

potent reasons for this earnestness on the part of the monk to procure a

truce to maritime operations, as very soon was to be made evident to the

world. Meantime, on this renewed visit, the negotiator expressed himself

as no longer doubtful in regard to the propriety of requesting the

Spanish king's consent to the proposed negotiations. That consent,

however, would in his opinion depend upon the earnestness now to be

manifested by the States in establishing the armistice by sea and land,

and upon their promptness in recalling the fleets now infesting the coast

of Spain. No immediate answer was given to these representations, but

Neyen was requested to draw up his argument in writing, in order that it

might be duly pondered by the States of the separate provinces.

The radical defect of the Dutch constitution--the independent sovereignty

claimed by each one of the provinces composing the confederation, each of

those provinces on its part being composed of cities, each again claiming

something very like sovereignty for itself--could not fail to be

manifested whenever, great negotiations with foreign powers were to be

undertaken. To obtain the unanimous consent of seven independent little

republics was a work of difficulty, requiring immense expenditure of time

in comparatively unimportant contingencies. How intolerable might become

the obstructions, the dissensions, and the delays, now that a series of

momentous and world-wide transactions was beginning, on the issue of

which the admission of a new commonwealth into the family of nations, the

international connections of all the great powers of Christendom, the

commerce of the world, and the peace of Europe depended.

Yet there was no help for it but to make the best present use of the

institutions which time and great events had bestowed upon the young

republic, leaving to a more convenient season the task of remodelling the

law. Meanwhile, with men who knew their own minds, who meant to speak the

truth, and who were resolved to gather in at last the harvest honestly

and bravely gained by nearly a half-century of hard fighting, it would be

hard for a legion of friars, with their heads full of quirks and their

wallets full of bills of exchange, to carry the day for despotism.

Barneveld was sincerely desirous of peace. He was well aware that his

province of Holland, where he was an intellectual autocrat, was

staggering under the burden of one half the expenses of the whole

republic. He knew that Holland in the course of the last nine years,

notwithstanding the constantly heightened rate of impost on all objects

of ordinary consumption, was twenty-six millions of florins behindhand,

and that she had reason therefore to wish for peace. The great Advocate,

than whom no statesman in Europe could more accurately scan the world's

horizon, was convinced that the propitious moment for honourable

straightforward negotiations to secure peace, independence, and free

commerce, free religion and free government, had come, and he had

succeeded in winning the reluctant Maurice into a partial adoption, at

least, of his opinions.

The Franciscan remained at Delft, waiting, by direction of the States,

for an answer to his propositions, and doing his best according to the

instructions of his own Government to espy the condition and sentiments

of the enemy. Becoming anxious after the lapse of a fortnight, he wrote

to Barneveld. In reply the Advocate twice sent a secret messenger,

urging, him to be patient, assuring him that the affair was working well;

that the opposition to peace came chiefly from Zeeland and from certain

parties in Amsterdam vehemently opposed to peace or truce; but that the

rest of Holland was decidedly in favour of the negotiations.

A few days passed, and Neyen was again summoned before the assembly.

Barneveld now informed him that the Dutch fleet would be recalled from

the coast of Spain so soon as the consent of his Catholic Majesty to the

negotiations arrived, but that it would be necessary to confine the

cessation of naval warfare within certain local limits. Both these

conditions were strenuously opposed by the Franciscan, who urged that the

consent of the Spanish king was certain, but that this new proposition to

localize the maritime armistice would prove to be fraught with endless

difficulties and dangers. Barneveld and the States remaining firm,

however, and giving him a formal communication of their decision in

writing, Neyen had nothing for it but to wend his way back rather

malcontent to Brussels.

It needed but a brief deliberation at the court of the archdukes to bring

about the desired arrangement. The desire for an armistice, especially

for a cessation of hostilities by sea, had been marvellously stimulated

by an event to be narrated in the next chapter. Meantime, more than the

first three months of the year had been passed in these secret

preliminary transactions, and so softly had the stealthy friar sped to

and fro between Brussels and the Hague, that when at last the armistice

was announced it broke forth like a sudden flash of fine weather in the

midst of a raging storm. No one at the archduke's court knew of the

mysterious negotiations save the monk himself, Spinola, Richardot,

Verreycken, the chief auditor, and one or two others. The great Belgian

nobles, from whom everything had been concealed, were very wroth, but the

Belgian public was as much delighted as amazed at the prospects of peace.

In the United Provinces opinions were conflicting, but doubtless joy and

confidence were the prevailing emotions.

Towards the middle of April the armistice was publicly announced. It was

to last for eight months from the 4th of May. During this period no

citadels were to be besieged, no camps brought near a city, no new

fortifications built, and all troops were to be kept carefully within

walls. Meantime commissioners were to be appointed by the archdukes to

confer with an equal number of deputies of the United Provinces for peace

or for a truce of ten, fifteen, or twenty years, on the express ground

that the archdukes regarded the United Provinces as free countries, over

which their Highnesses pretended to no authority.

The armistice on land was absolute. On sea, hostilities were to cease in

the German Ocean and in the channel between England and France, while it

was also provided that the Netherland fleet should, within a certain

period, be recalled from the Spanish coast.

A day of public fast, humiliation, thanksgiving, and prayer was ordered

throughout the republic for the 9th of May, in order to propitiate the

favour of Heaven on the great work to be undertaken; and, as a further

precaution, Prince Maurice ordered all garrisons in the strong places to

be doubled, lest the slippery enemy should take advantage of too much

confidence reposed in his good faith. The preachers throughout the

commonwealth, each according to his individual bias, improved the

occasion by denouncing the Spaniard from their pulpits and inflaming the

popular hatred against the ancient enemy, or by dilating on the blessings

of peace and the horrors of war. The peace party and the war party, the

believers in Barneveld and the especial adherents of Prince Maurice,

seemed to divide the land in nearly equal portions.

While the Netherlands, both rebellious and obedient, were filled with

these various emotions, the other countries of Europe were profoundly

amazed at the sudden revelation. It was on the whole regarded as a

confession of impotence on the part of Spain that the archdukes should

now prepare to send envoys to the revolted provinces as to a free and

independent people. Universal monarchy, brought to such a pass as this,

was hardly what had been expected after the tremendous designs and the

grandiloquent language on which the world had so long been feeding as its

daily bread. The spectacle of anointed monarchs thus far humbling

themselves to the people of rebellion dictating terms, instead of

writhing in dust at the foot of the throne--was something new in history.

The heavens and earth might soon be expected to pass away, now that such

a catastrophe was occurring.

The King of France had also been kept in ignorance of these events. It

was impossible, however, that the negotiations could go forward without

his consent and formal participation. Accordingly on receiving the news

he appointed an especial mission to the Hague--President Jeannin and De

Russy, besides his regular resident ambassador Buzanval. Meantime

startling news reached the republic in the early days of May.

ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

A penal offence in the republic to talk of peace or of truce

Accepting a new tyrant in place of the one so long ago deposed

As if they were free will not make them free

As neat a deception by telling the truth

Cargo of imaginary gold dust was exported from the James River

Delay often fights better than an army against a foreign invader

Diplomacy of Spain and Rome--meant simply dissimulation

Draw a profit out of the necessities of this state

England hated the Netherlands

Friendly advice still more intolerable

Haereticis non servanda fides

He who confessed well was absolved well

Insensible to contumely, and incapable of accepting a rebuff

Languor of fatigue, rather than any sincere desire for peace

Much as the blind or the deaf towards colour or music

Subtle and dangerous enemy who wore the mask of a friend

Word peace in Spanish mouths simply meant the Holy Inquisition

HISTORY OF THE UNITED NETHERLANDS

From the Death of William the Silent to the Twelve Year's Truce--1609

By John Lothrop Motley

History United Netherlands, Volume 79, 1607