The Duke of Bouillon soon afterwards departed for the Netherlands, where the regular envoy to the commonwealth, Paul Chouart Seigneur de Buzanval, had already been preparing the States-General for their entrance into the league.  Of course it was duly impressed upon those republicans that they should think themselves highly honoured by the privilege of associating themselves with so august an alliance.  The queen wrote an earnest letter to the States, urging them to join the league.  “Especially should you do so,” she said, “on account of the reputation which you will thereby gain for your affairs with the people who are under you, seeing you thus sustained (besides the certainty which you have of our favour) by the friendship of other confederated princes, and particularly by that of the most Christian king.”

On the 31st October the articles of agreement under which the republic acceded to the new confederation were signed at the Hague.  Of course it was not the exact counterpart of the famous Catholic association.  Madam League, after struggling feebly for the past few years, a decrepit beldame, was at last dead and buried.  But there had been a time when she was filled with exuberant and terrible life.  She, at least, had known the object of her creation, and never, so long as life was in her, had she faltered in her dread purpose.  To extirpate Protestantism, to murder Protestants, to burn, hang, butcher, bury them alive, to dethrone every Protestant sovereign in Europe, especially to assassinate the Queen of England, the Prince of Orange, with all his race, and Henry of Navarre, and to unite in the accomplishment of these simple purposes all the powers of Christendom under the universal monarchy of Philip of Spain—­for all this, blood was shed in torrents, and the precious metals of the “Indies” squandered as fast as the poor savages, who were thus taking their first lessons in the doctrines of Jesus of Nazareth, could dig it from the mines.  For this America had been summoned, as it were by almighty fiat, out of previous darkness, in order that it might furnish money with which to massacre all the heretics of the earth.  For this great purpose was the sublime discovery of the Genoese sailor to be turned to account.  These aims were intelligible, and had in part been attained.  William of Orange had fallen, and a patent of nobility, with a handsome fortune, had been bestowed upon his assassin.  Elizabeth’s life had been frequently attempted.  So had those of Henry, of Maurice, of Olden-Barneveld.  Divine providence might perhaps guide the hand of future murderers with greater accuracy, for even if Madam League were dead, her ghost still walked among the Jesuits and summoned them to complete the crimes left yet unfinished.

But what was the design of the new confederacy?  It was not a Protestant league.  Henry of Navarre could no longer be the chief of such an association, although it was to Protestant powers only that he could turn for assistance.  It was to the commonwealth of the Netherlands, to the northern potentates and to the Calvinist and Lutheran princes of Germany, that the king and queen could alone appeal in their designs against Philip of Spain.