For the moment the moderate party in the Church, those more inclined to Arminianism and the supremacy of the civil authority in religious matters, had asserted their ascendency in the States-General, and had prevented the threatened rupture.

Meantime it was doubly necessary to hasten the special embassies to France and to England, in both which countries much anxiety as to the political health and strength of the new republic had been excited by these troubles in Utrecht.  It was important for the States-General to show that they were not crippled, and would not shrink from the coming conflict, but would justify the reliance placed on them by their allies.

Thus there were reasons enough why Barneveld could not himself leave the country in the eventful spring of 1610.  It must be admitted, however, that he was not backward in placing his nearest relatives in places of honour, trust, and profit.

His eldest son Reinier, Seignior of Groeneveld, had been knighted by Henry IV.; his youngest, William, afterwards called Seignior of Stoutenburg, but at this moment bearing the not very mellifluous title of Craimgepolder, was a gentleman-in-waiting at that king’s court, with a salary of 3000 crowns a year.  He was rather a favourite with the easy-going monarch, but he gave infinite trouble to the Dutch ambassador Aerssens, who, feeling himself under immense obligations to the Advocate and professing for him boundless gratitude, did his best to keep the idle, turbulent, extravagant, and pleasure-loving youth up to the strict line of his duties.

“Your son is in debt again,” wrote Aerssens, on one occasion, “and troubled for money.  He is in danger of going to the usurers.  He says he cannot keep himself for less than 200 crowns a month.  This is a large allowance, but he has spent much more than that.  His life is not irregular nor his dress remarkably extravagant.  His difficulty is that he will not dine regularly with me nor at court.  He will keep his own table and have company to dinner.  That is what is ruining him.  He comes sometimes to me, not for the dinner nor the company, but for tennis, which he finds better in my faubourg than in town.  His trouble comes from the table, and I tell you frankly that you must regulate his expenses or they will become very onerous to you.  I am ashamed of them and have told him so a hundred times, more than if he had been my own brother.  It is all for love of you . . . .  I have been all to him that could be expected of a man who is under such vast obligations to you; and I so much esteem the honour of your friendship that I should always neglect my private affairs in order to do everything for your service and meet your desires . . . . .  If M. de Craimgepolder comes back from his visit home, you must restrict him in two things, the table and tennis, and you can do this if you require him to follow the King assiduously as his service requires.”