the envoys of a proud commonwealth; yet it was sufficiently galling that English garrisons should continue to hold Dutch towns; one of them among the most valuable seaports of the Republic,—­the other the very cradle of its independence, the seizure of which in Alva’s days had always been reckoned a splendid achievement.  Moreover, by the fifth article of the treaty of peace between James and Philip III., although the King had declared himself bound by the treaties made by Elizabeth to deliver up the cautionary towns to no one but the United States, he promised Spain to allow those States a reasonable time to make peace with the Archdukes on satisfactory conditions.  Should they refuse to do so, he held himself bound by no obligations to them, and would deal with the cities as he thought proper, and as the Archdukes themselves might deem just.

The King had always been furious at “the huge sum of money to be advanced, nay, given, to the States,” as he phrased it.  “It is so far out of all square,” he had said, “as on my conscience I cannot think that ever they craved it ‘animo obtinendi,’ but only by that objection to discourage me from any thought of getting any repayment of my debts from them when they shall be in peace. . . .  Should I ruin myself for maintaining them?  Should I bestow as much on them as cometh to the value of my whole yearly rent?” He had proceeded to say very plainly that, if the States did not make great speed to pay him all his debt so soon as peace was established, he should treat their pretence at independence with contempt, and propose dividing their territory between himself and the King of France.

“If they be so weak as they cannot subsist either in peace or war,” he said, “without I ruin myself for upholding them, in that case surely ‘minus malunv est eligendum,’ the nearest harm is first to be eschewed, a man will leap out of a burning ship and drown himself in the sea; and it is doubtless a farther off harm for me to suffer them to fall again in the hands of Spain, and let God provide for the danger that may with time fall upon me or my posterity than presently to starve myself and mine with putting the meat in their mouth.  Nay, rather if they be so weak as they can neither sustain themselves in peace nor war, let them leave this vainglorious thirsting for the title of a free state (which no people are worthy or able to enjoy that cannot stand by themselves like substantives), and ‘dividantur inter nos;’ I mean, let their countries be divided between France and me, otherwise the King of Spain shall be sure to consume us.”

Such were the eyes with which James had always regarded the great commonwealth of which he affected to be the ally, while secretly aspiring to be its sovereign, and such was his capacity to calculate political forces and comprehend coming events.

Certainly the sword was hanging by a thread.  The States had made no peace either with the Archdukes or with Spain.  They had made a truce, half the term of which had already run by.  At any moment the keys of their very house-door might be placed in the hands of their arch enemy.  Treacherous and base as the deed would be, it might be defended by the letter of a treaty in which the Republic had no part; and was there anything too treacherous or too base to be dreaded from James Stuart?