as
instructed to give him information regarding it. Being answered in the
negative, he said he had thought himself of sufficient importance to the
States and enough in their confidence to be apprised of their military
movements. It was for this, he said, that his ambassador sat in their
council. Caron expressed the opinion that warlike enterprises of the kind
should be kept as secret as possible in order to be successful. This the
King disputed, and loudly declared his vexation at being left in
ignorance of the matter. The Ambassador excused himself as well as he
could, on the ground that he had been in Zealand when the troops were
marching, but told the King his impression that they had been sent to
chastise the people of Cologne for their cruelty in burning and utterly
destroying the city of Mulheim.

"That is none of your affair," said the King.

"Pardon me, your Majesty," replied Caron, "they are our fellow
religionists, and some one at least ought to resent the cruelty practised
upon them."

The King admitted that the destruction of the city had been an
unheard--of cruelty, and then passed on to speak of the quarrel between
the Duke and City of Brunswick, and other matters. The interview ended,
and the Ambassador, very downhearted, went to confer with the Secretary
of State Sir Ralph Winwood, and Sir Henry Wotton.

He assured these gentlemen that without fully consulting the French
government these radical changes in the negotiations would never be
consented to by the States. Winwood promised to confer at once with the
French ambassador, admitting it to be impossible for the King to take up
this matter alone. He would also talk with the Archduke's ambassador next
day noon at dinner, who was about leaving for Brussels, and "he would put
something into his hand that he might take home with him."

"When he is fairly gone," said Caron, "it is to be hoped that the King's
head will no longer be so muddled about these things. I wish it with all
my heart."

It was a dismal prospect for the States. The one ally on whom they had a
right to depend, the ex-Calvinist and royal Defender of the Faith, in
this mortal combat of Protestantism with the League, was slipping out of
their grasp with distracting lubricity. On the other hand, the Most
Christian King, a boy of fourteen years, was still in the control of a
mother heart and soul with the League--so far as she had heart or
soul--was betrothed to the daughter of Spain,