tell what he thinketh,” wrote Leicester’s
eaves-dropper-in-chiefs. Mathematics, fortification,
the science of war —these were his daily
pursuits. “The sapling was to become the
tree,” and meantime the youth was preparing
for the great destiny which he felt, lay before him.
To ponder over the works and the daring conceptions
of Stevinus, to build up and to batter the wooden
blocks of mimic citadels; to arrange in countless
combinations, great armies of pewter soldiers; these
were the occupations of his leisure-hours. Yet
he was hardly suspected of bearing within him the
germs of the great military commander. “Small
desire hath Count Maurice to follow the wars,”
said one who fancied himself an acute observer at
exactly this epoch. “And whereas it might
be supposed that in respect to his birth and place,
he would affect the chief military command in these
countries, it is found by experience had of his humour,
that there is no chance of his entering into competition
with the others.” A modest young man, who
could bide his time—but who, meanwhile,
under the guidance of his elders, was doing his best,
both in field and cabinet, to learn the great lessons
of the age—he had already enjoyed much
solid practical instruction, under such a desperate
fighter as Hohenlo, and under so profound a statesman
as Barneveld. For at this epoch Olden-Barneveld
was the preceptor, almost the political patron of
Maurice, and Maurice, the official head of the Holland
party, was the declared opponent of the democratic-Calvinist
organization. It is not necessary, at this early
moment, to foreshadow the changes which time was to
bring. Meantime it would be seen, perhaps ere
long, whether or no, it would be his humour to follow
the wars. As to his prudent and dignified deportment
there was little doubt. “Count Maurice
behaveth himself very discreetly all this while,”
wrote one, who did not love him, to Leicester, who
loved him less: “He cometh every day to
the council, keeping no company with Count Hollock,
nor with any of them all, and never drinks himself
full with any of them, as they do every day among
themselves.”
Certainly the most profitable intercourse that Maurice
could enjoy with Hohenlo was upon the battle-field.
In winter-quarters, that hard-fighting, hard-drinking,
and most turbulent chieftain, was not the best Mentor
for a youth whose destiny pointed him out as the leader
of a free commonwealth. After the campaigns
were over—if they ever could be over--the
Count and other nobles from the same country were too
apt to indulge in those mighty potations, which were
rather characteristic of their nation and the age.
“Since your Excellency’s departure,”
wrote Leicester’s secretary, “there hath
been among the Dutch Counts nothing but dancing and
drinking, to the grief of all this people; which foresee
that there can come no good of it. Specially
Count Hollock, who hath been drunk almost a fortnight
together.”