“I console myself,” he answered, “in the Lord my God, who knows all hearts and shall judge all men.  God is just.

“They have not dealt with me,” he continued, “as according to law and justice they were bound to deal.  They have taken away from me my own sovereign lords and masters and deposed them.  To them alone I was responsible.  In their place they have put many of my enemies who were never before in the government, and almost all of whom are young men who have not seen much or read much.  I have seen and read much, and know that from such examples no good can follow.  After my death they will learn for the first time what governing means.”

“The twenty-four judges are nearly all of them my enemies.  What they have reproached me with, I have been obliged to hear.  I have appealed against these judges, but it has been of no avail.  They have examined me in piecemeal, not in statesmanlike fashion.  The proceedings against me have been much too hard.  I have frequently requested to see the notes of my examination as it proceeded, and to confer upon it with aid and counsel of friends, as would be the case in all lands governed by law.  The request was refused.  During this long and wearisome affliction and misery I have not once been allowed to speak to my wife and children.  These are indecent proceedings against a man seventy-two years of age, who has served his country faithfully for three-and-forty years.  I bore arms with the volunteers at my own charges at the siege of Haarlem and barely escaped with life.”

It was not unnatural that the aged statesman’s thoughts should revert in this supreme moment to the heroic scenes in which he had been an actor almost a half-century before.  He could not but think with bitterness of those long past but never forgotten days when he, with other patriotic youths, had faced the terrible legions of Alva in defence of the Fatherland, at a time when the men who were now dooming him to a traitor’s death were unborn, and who, but for his labours, courage, wisdom, and sacrifices, might have never had a Fatherland to serve, or a judgment-seat on which to pronounce his condemnation.

Not in a spirit of fretfulness, but with disdainful calm, he criticised and censured the proceedings against himself as a violation of the laws of the land and of the first principles of justice, discussing them as lucidly and steadily as if they had been against a third person.

The preachers listened, but had nothing to say.  They knew not of such matters, they said, and had no instructions to speak of them.  They had been sent to call him to repentance for his open and hidden sins and to offer the consolations of religion.

“I know that very well,” he said, “but I too have something to say notwithstanding.”  The conversation then turned upon religious topics, and the preachers spoke of predestination.