It was a room of moderate dimensions, some twenty-five feet square, with a high vaulted roof and decently furnished.  Below and around him in the courtyard were the scenes of the Advocate’s life-long and triumphant public services.  There in the opposite building were the windows of the beautiful “Hall of Truce,” with its sumptuous carvings and gildings, its sculptures and portraits, where he had negotiated with the representatives of all the great powers of Christendom the famous Treaty which had suspended the war of forty years, and where he was wont almost daily to give audience to the envoys of the greatest sovereigns or the least significant states of Europe and Asia, all of whom had been ever solicitous of his approbation and support.

Farther along in the same building was the assembly room of the States-General, where some of the most important affairs of the Republic and of Europe had for years been conducted, and where he had been so indispensable that, in the words of a contemporary who loved him not, “absolutely nothing could be transacted in his absence, all great affairs going through him alone.”

There were two dull windows, closely barred, looking northward over an irregular assemblage of tile-roofed houses and chimney-stacks, while within a stone’s throw to the west, but unseen, was his own elegant mansion on the Voorhout, surrounded by flower gardens and shady pleasure grounds, where now sat his aged wife and her children all plunged in deep affliction.

He was allowed the attendance of a faithful servant, Jan Franken by name, and a sentinel stood constantly before his door.  His papers had been taken from him, and at first he was deprived of writing materials.

He had small connection with the outward world.  The news of the municipal revolution which had been effected by the Stadholder had not penetrated to his solitude, but his wife was allowed to send him fruit from their garden.  One day a basket of fine saffron pears was brought to him.  On slicing one with a knife he found a portion of a quill inside it.  Within the quill was a letter on thinnest paper, in minutest handwriting in Latin.  It was to this effect.

“Don’t rely upon the States of Holland, for the Prince of Orange has changed the magistracies in many cities.  Dudley Carleton is not your friend.”

A sergeant of the guard however, before bringing in these pears, had put a couple of them in his pocket to take home to his wife.  The letter, copies of which perhaps had been inserted for safety in several of them, was thus discovered and the use of this ingenious device prevented for the future.

Secretary Ledenberg, who had been brought to the Hague in the early days of September, was the first of the prisoners subjected to examination.  He was much depressed at the beginning of it, and is said to have exclaimed with many sighs, “Oh Barneveld, Barneveld, what have you brought us to!”