s 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 resol