The King of England considered that quite enough had been done, and was in great haste to patch up a reconciliation.  He thought his ambassador would soon “have as good occasion to employ his tongue and his pen as General Cecil and his soldiers have done their swords and their mattocks.”

He had no sympathy with the cause of Protestantism, and steadily refused to comprehend the meaning of the great movements in the duchies.  “I only wish that I may handsomely wind myself out of this quarrel, where the principal parties do so little for themselves,” he said.

De la Chatre returned with his troops to France within a fortnight after his arrival on the scene.  A mild proposition made by the French government through the Marshal, that the provinces should be held in seguestration by France until a decision as to the true sovereignty could be reached, was promptly declined.  Maurice of Nassau had hardly gained so signal a triumph for the Republic and for the Protestant cause only to hand it over to Concini and Villeroy for the benefit of Spain.  Julich was thought safer in the keeping of Sergeant Pithan.

By the end of September the States’ troops had returned to their own country.

Thus the Republic, with eminent success, had accomplished a brief and brilliant campaign, but no statesman could suppose that the result was more than a temporary one.  These coveted provinces, most valuable in themselves and from their important position, would probably not be suffered peacefully to remain very long under the protection of the heretic States-General and in the ‘Condominium’ of two Protestant princes.  There was fear among the Imperialists, Catholics, and Spaniards, lest the baleful constellation of the Seven Provinces might be increased by an eighth star.  And this was a project not to be tolerated.  It was much already that the upstart confederacy had defied Pope, Emperor, and King, as it were, on their own domains, had dictated arrangements in Germany directly in the teeth of its emperor, using France as her subordinate, and compelling the British king to acquiesce in what he most hated.

But it was not merely to surprise Julich, and to get a foothold in the duchies, that Leopold had gone forth on his adventure.  His campaign, as already intimated, was part of a wide scheme in which he had persuaded his emperor-cousin to acquiesce.  Poor Rudolph had been at last goaded into a feeble attempt at revolt against his three brothers and his cousin Ferdinand.  Peace-loving, inert, fond of his dinner, fonder of his magnificent collections of gems and intagli, liking to look out of window at his splendid collection of horses, he was willing to pass a quiet life, afar from the din of battles and the turmoil of affairs.  As he happened to be emperor of half Europe, these harmless tastes could not well be indulged.  Moon-faced and fat, silent and slow, he was not imperial of aspect on canvas or coin, even when his brows were decorated with the conventional laurel wreath.  He had been stripped of his authority and all but discrowned by his more bustling brothers Matthias and Max, while the sombre figure of Styrian Ferdinand, pupil of the Jesuits, and passionate admirer of Philip II., stood ever in the background, casting a prophetic shadow over the throne and over Germany.