and determined to revenge upon the cause of the Netherland Reformation the injury which he had personally received.  Even the wise, considerate, affectionate brother, John of Nassau, considered the marriage an act of madness.  He did what he could, by argument and entreaty, to dissuade the Prince from its completion; although he afterwards voluntarily confessed that the Princess Charlotte had been deeply calumniated, and was an inestimable treasure to his brother.  The French government made use of the circumstance to justify itself in a still further alienation from the cause of the Prince than it had hitherto manifested, but this was rather pretence than reality.

It was not in the nature of things, however, that the Saxon and Hessian indignation could be easily allayed.  The Landgrave was extremely violent.  “Truly, I cannot imagine,” he wrote to the Elector of Saxony, “quo consilio that wiseacre of an Aldegonde, and whosoever else has been aiding and abetting, have undertaken this affair.  Nam si pietatem respicias, it is to be feared that, considering she is a Frenchwoman, a nun, and moreover a fugitive nun, about whose chastity there has been considerable question, the Prince has got out of the frying-pan into the fire.  Si formam it is not to be supposed that it was her beauty which charmed him, since, without doubt, he must be rather frightened than delighted, when he looks upon her.  Si spem prolis, the Prince has certainly only too many heirs already, and ought to wish that he had neither wife nor children.  Si amicitiam, it is not to be supposed, while her father expresses himself in such threatening language with regard to her, that there will be much cordiality of friendship on his part.  Let them look to it, then, lest it fare with them no better than with the Admiral, at his Paris wedding; for those gentlemen can hardly forgive such injuries, sine mercurio et arsenico sublimato.”

The Elector of Saxony was frantic with choler, and almost ludicrous in the vehemence of its expression.  Count John was unceasing in his exhortations to his brother to respect the sensitiveness of these important personages, and to remember how much good and how much evil it was in their power to compass, with regard to himself and to the great cause of the Protestant religion.  He reminded him, too, that the divorce had not been, and would not be considered impregnable as to form, and that much discomfort and detriment was likely to grow out of the whole proceeding, for himself and his family.  The Prince, however, was immovable in his resolution, and from the whole tone of his correspondence and deportment it was obvious that his marriage was one rather of inclination than of policy.  “I can assure you, my brother,” he wrote to Count John, “that my character has always tended to this—­to care neither for words nor menaces in any matter where I can act with a clear conscience, and without doing injury to my neighbour.  Truly, if I had paid regard to the threats of princes, I should never have embarked in so many dangerous affairs, contrary to the will of the King, my master, in times past, and even to the advice of many of my relatives and friends.”