me to suffer them to fall again in
the hands of Spain, and let God provide for the danger that may with time
fall upon me or my posterity than presently to starve myself and mine
with putting the meat in their mouth. Nay, rather if they be so weak as
they can neither sustain themselves in peace nor war, let them leave this
vainglorious thirsting for the title of a free state (which no people are
worthy or able to enjoy that cannot stand by themselves like
substantives), and 'dividantur inter nos;' I mean, let their countries be
divided between France and me, otherwise the King of Spain shall be sure
to consume us."

Such were the eyes with which James had always regarded the great
commonwealth of which he affected to be the ally, while secretly aspiring
to be its sovereign, and such was his capacity to calculate political
forces and comprehend coming events.

Certainly the sword was hanging by a thread. The States had made no peace
either with the Archdukes or with Spain. They had made a truce, half the
term of which had already run by. At any moment the keys of their very
house-door might be placed in the hands of their arch enemy. Treacherous
and base as the deed would be, it might be defended by the letter of a
treaty in which the Republic had no part; and was there anything too
treacherous or too base to be dreaded from James Stuart?

But the States owed the crown of England eight millions of florins,
equivalent to about L750,000. Where was this vast sum to be found? It was
clearly impossible for the States to beg or to borrow it, although they
were nearly as rich as any of the leading powers at that day.

It was the merit of Barneveld, not only that he saw the chance for a good
bargain, but that he fully comprehended a great danger. Years long James
had pursued the phantom of a Spanish marriage for his son. To achieve
this mighty object, he had perverted the whole policy of the realm; he
had grovelled to those who despised him, had repaid attempts at wholesale
assassination with boundless sycophancy. It is difficult to imagine
anything more abject than the attitude of James towards Philip. Prince
Henry was dead, but Charles had now become Prince of Wales in his turn,
and there was a younger infanta whose hand was not yet disposed of.

So long as the possible prize of a Most Catholic princess was dangling
before the eyes of the royal champion of Protestantism, so long there was
danger that the Netherlanders mig