Acting entirely and faithfully according to the instructions of the Advocate of Holland, he always gratefully and copiously acknowledged the privilege of being guided and sustained in the difficult paths he had to traverse by so powerful and active an intellect.  I have seldom alluded in terms to the instructions and despatches of the chief, but every position, negotiation, and opinion of the envoy—­and the reader has seen many of them—­is pervaded by their spirit.  Certainly the correspondence of Aerssens is full to overflowing of gratitude, respect, fervent attachment to the person and exalted appreciation of the intellect and high character of the Advocate.

There can be no question of Aerssen’s consummate abilities.  Whether his heart were as sound as his head, whether his protestations of devotion had the ring of true gold or not, time would show.  Hitherto Barneveld had not doubted him, nor had he found cause to murmur at Barneveld.

But the France of Henry IV., where the Dutch envoy was so all-powerful, had ceased to exist.  A duller eye than that of Aerssens could have seen at a glance that the potent kingdom and firm ally of the Republic had been converted, for a long time to come at least, into a Spanish province.  The double Spanish marriages (that of the young Louis XIII. with the Infanta Anna, and of his sister with the Infante, one day to be Philip IV.), were now certain, for it was to make them certain that the knife of Ravaillac had been employed.  The condition precedent to those marriages had long been known.  It was the renunciation of the alliance between France and Holland.  It was the condemnation to death, so far as France had the power to condemn her to death, of the young Republic.  Had not Don Pedro de Toledo pompously announced this condition a year and a half before?  Had not Henry spurned the bribe with scorn?  And now had not Francis Aerssens been the first to communicate to his masters the fruit which had already ripened upon Henry’s grave?  As we have seen, he had revealed these intrigues long before they were known to the world, and the French court knew that he had revealed them.  His position had become untenable.  His friendship for Henry could not be of use to him with the delicate-featured, double-chinned, smooth and sluggish Florentine, who had passively authorized and actively profited by her husband’s murder.

It was time for the Envoy to be gone.  The Queen-Regent and Concini thought so.  And so did Villeroy and Sillery and the rest of the old servants of the King, now become pensionaries of Spain.  But Aerssens did not think so.  He liked his position, changed as it was.  He was deep in the plottings of Bouillon and Conde and the other malcontents against the Queen-Regent.  These schemes, being entirely personal, the rank growth of the corruption and apparent disintegration of France, were perpetually changing, and could be reduced to no principle.  It was a mere struggle of the great lords of France to wrest places, money, governments, military commands from the Queen-Regent, and frantic attempts on her part to save as much as possible of the general wreck for her lord and master Concini.