No human being at that moment, assuredly, could look into the immediate future accurately enough to see whether the name and memory of the man, whom his adherents called Henry the Fourth of France, and whom Spaniards, legitimists and enthusiastic papists, called the Prince of Bearne, were to be for ever excluded from the archives of France; whether Henry, after spending the whole of his life as a pretender, was destined to bequeath the same empty part to his descendants, should they think it worth their while to play it.  Meantime the sages smiled superior at his delusion; while Alexander Farnese, on the contrary, better understanding the chances of the great game which they were all playing, made bold to tell his master that all hearts in France were inclining to their natural lord.  “Differing from your Majesty,” said he, “I am of opinion that there is no better means of excluding him than to make choice of the Duke of Mayenne, as a person agreeable to the people, and who could only reign by your permission and support.”

Thus, after much hesitation and circumlocution, the nephew made up his mind to chill his uncle’s hopes of the crown, and to speak a decided opinion in behalf of the man of his word, faith and truth.

And thus through the whole of the two memorable campaigns made by Alexander in France, he never failed to give his master the most accurate pictures of the country, and an interior view of its politics; urging above all the absolute necessity of providing much more liberal supplies for the colossal adventure in which he was engaged.  “Money and again money is what is required,” he said.  “The principal matter is to be accomplished with money, and the particular individuals must be bought with money.  The good will of every French city must be bought with money.  Mayenne must be humoured.  He is getting dissatisfied.  Very probably he is intriguing with Bearne.  Everybody is pursuing his private ends.  Mayenne has never abandoned his own wish to be king, although he sees the difficulties in the way; and while he has not the power to do us as much good as is thought, it is certainly in his hands to do us a great deal of injury.”

When his army was rapidly diminishing by disease, desertion, mutiny, and death, he vehemently and perpetually denounced the utter inadequacy of the king’s means to his vast projects.  He protested that he was not to blame for the ruin likely to come upon the whole enterprise.  He had besought, remonstrated, reasoned with Philip—­in vain.  He assured his master that in the condition of weakness in which they found themselves, not very triumphant negotiations could be expected, but that he would do his best.  “The Frenchmen,” he said, “are getting tired of our disorders, and scandalized by our weakness, misery, and poverty.  They disbelieve the possibility of being liberated through us.”