plots of the Count of Auvergne and the Marchioness of Verneuil, the treason of Meragne, the corruption of L’Hoste, and an infinity of other plots of the King and his ministers; of deep injuries to him and to the public repose, not to be tolerated by a mighty king like himself, with a grey beard.  He would be revenged, he said, for this last blow, and so for all the rest.  He would not leave a troublesome war on the hands of his young son.  The occasion was favourable.  It was just to defend the oppressed princes with the promptly accorded assistance of the States-General.  The King of Great Britain was favourable.  The Duke of Savoy was pledged.  It was better to begin the war in his green old age than to wait the pleasure and opportunity of the King of Spain.

All this he said while racked with fever, and dismissed the Envoy at last, after a long interview, with these words:  “Mr. Ambassador—­I have always spoken roundly and frankly to you, and you will one day be my witness that I have done all that I could to draw the Prince out of the plight into which he has put himself.  But he is struggling for the succession to this crown under instructions from the Spaniards, to whom he has entirely pledged himself.  He has already received 6000 crowns for his equipment.  I know that you and my other friends will work for the conservation of this monarchy, and will never abandon me in my designs to weaken the power of Spain.  Pray God for my health.”

The King kept his bed a few days afterwards, but soon recovered.  Villeroy sent word to Barneveld in answer to his suggestions of reconciliation that it was too late, that Conde was entirely desperate and Spanish.  The crown of France was at stake, he said, and the Prince was promising himself miracles and mountains with the aid of Spain, loudly declaring the marriage of Mary de’ Medici illegal, and himself heir to the throne.  The Secretary of State professed himself as impatient as his master for the arrival of the embassy; the States being the best friends France ever had and the only allies to make the war succeed.

Jeannin, who was now never called to the council, said that the war was not for Germany but for Conde, and that Henry could carry it on for eight years.  He too was most anxious for Barneveld’s arrival, and was of his opinion that it would have been better for Conde to be persuaded to remain at Breda and be supported by his brother-in-law, the Prince of Orange.  The impetuosity of the King had however swept everything before it, and Conde had been driven to declare himself Spanish and a pretender to the crown.  There was no issue now but war.

Boderie, the King’s envoy in Great Britain, wrote that James would be willing to make a defensive league for the affairs of Cleve and Julich only, which was the slenderest amount of assistance; but Henry always suspected Master Jacques of intentions to baulk him if possible and traverse his designs.  But the die was cast.  Spinola had carried off Conde in triumph; the Princess was pining in her gilt cage in Brussels, and demanding a divorce for desertion and cruel treatment; the King considered himself as having done as much as honour allowed him to effect a reconciliation, and it was obvious that, as the States’ ambassador said, he could no longer retire from the war without shame, which would be the greatest danger of all.