He warned the States, however, that Henry had not found as much in their propositions as the common interest had caused him to promise himself.  “Nevertheless he informs me in confidence,” said Aerssens, “that he will engage himself in nothing without you; nay, more, he has expressly told me that he could hardly accomplish his task without your assistance, and it was for our sakes alone that he has put himself into this position and incurred this great expense.”

Some days later he informed Barneveld that he would leave to van der Myle and his colleagues the task of describing the great dissatisfaction of the King at the letters brought by de Bethune.  He told him in confidence that the States must equip the French regiments and put them in marching order if they wished to preserve Henry’s friendship.  He added that since the departure of the special embassy the King had been vehemently and seriously urging that Prince Maurice, Count Lewis William, Barneveld, and three or four of the most qualified deputies of the States-General, entirely authorized to treat for the common safety, should meet with him in the territory of Julich on a fixed day.

The crisis was reached.  The King stood fully armed, thoroughly prepared, with trustworthy allies at his side, disposing of overwhelming forces ready to sweep down with irresistible strength upon the House of Austria, which, as he said and the States said, aspired to give the law to the whole world.  Nothing was left to do save, as the Ambassador said, to “uncouple the dogs of war and let them run.”

What preparations had Spain and the Empire, the Pope and the League, set on foot to beat back even for a moment the overwhelming onset?  None whatever.  Spinola in the Netherlands, Fuentes in Milan, Bucquoy and Lobkowitz and Lichtenstein in Prague, had hardly the forces of a moderate peace establishment at their disposal, and all the powers save France and the States were on the verge of bankruptcy.

Even James of Great Britain—­shuddering at the vast thundercloud which had stretched itself over Christendom growing blacker and blacker, precisely at this moment, in which he had proved to his own satisfaction that the peace just made would perpetually endure—­even James did not dare to traverse the designs of the king whom he feared, and the republic which he hated, in favour of his dearly loved Spain.  Sweden, Denmark, the Hanse Towns, were in harmony with France, Holland, Savoy, and the whole Protestant force of Germany—­a majority both in population and resources of the whole empire.  What army, what combination, what device, what talisman, could save the House of Austria, the cause of Papacy, from the impending ruin?

A sudden, rapid, conclusive victory for the allies seemed as predestined a result as anything could be in the future of human affairs.

On the 14th or 15th day of May, as he had just been informing the States’ ambassadors, Henry meant to place himself at the head of his army.  That was the moment fixed by himself for “taking his departure.”