“I have sometimes spoken hastily, I confess,” he said; “but that was when I was stung by the daily swarm of infamous and loathsome pamphlets, especially those directed against my sovereign masters the States of Holland.  That I could not bear.  Old men cannot well brush such things aside.  All that was directly aimed at me in particular I endeavoured to overcome with such patience as I could muster.  The disunion and mutual enmity in the country have wounded me to the heart.  I have made use of all means in my power to accommodate matters, to effect with all gentleness a mutual reconciliation.  I have always felt a fear lest the enemy should make use of our internal dissensions to strike a blow against us.  I can say with perfect truth that ever since the year ’77 I have been as resolutely and unchangeably opposed to the Spaniards and their adherents, and their pretensions over these Provinces, as any man in the world, no one excepted, and as ready to sacrifice property and shed my blood in defence of the Fatherland.  I have been so devoted to the service of the country that I have not been able to take the necessary care of my own private affairs.”

So spoke the great statesman in the seclusion of his prison, in the presence of those clergymen whom he respected, at a supreme moment, when, if ever, a man might be expected to tell the truth.  And his whole life which belonged to history, and had been passed on the world’s stage before the eyes of two generations of spectators, was a demonstration of the truth of his words.

But Burgomaster van Berk knew better.  Had he not informed the twenty-four commissioners that, twelve years before, the Advocate wished to subject the country to Spain, and that Spinola had drawn a bill of exchange for 100,000 ducats as a compensation for his efforts?

It was eleven o’clock.  Barneveld requested one of the brethren to say an evening prayer.  This was done by La Motte, and they were then requested to return by three or four o’clock next morning.  They had been directed, they said, to remain with him all night.  “That is unnecessary,” said the Advocate, and they retired.

His servant then helped his master to undress, and he went to bed as usual.  Taking off his signet-ring, he gave it to John Franken.

“For my eldest son,” he said.

The valet sat down at the head of his bed in order that his master might speak to him before he slept.  But the soldiers ordered him away and compelled him to sit in a distant part of the room.

An hour after midnight, the Advocate having been unable to lose himself, his servant observed that Isaac, one of the soldiers, was fast asleep.  He begged the other, Tilman Schenk by name, to permit him some private words with his master.  He had probably last messages, he thought, to send to his wife and children, and the eldest son, M. de Groeneveld, would no doubt reward him well for it.  But the soldier was obstinate in obedience to the orders of the judges.