For it had been precisely during that midsummer vacation of the President at Paris that Henry had completed his plot against the liberty of the republic, of which he professed himself the only friend.  Another phase of Spanish marriage-making had excited his ever scheming and insidious brain.  It had been proposed that the second son of the Spanish king should espouse one of Henry’s daughters.

The papal Nuncius asked what benefit the King of Spain would receive for his share, in case of the marriage.  The French king replied by plainly declaring to the Nuncius that the United States should abstain from and renounce all navigation to and commerce with the Indies, and should permit public exercise of the Catholic religion.  If they refused, would incontinently abandon them to their fate.  More than this, he said, could not honestly be expected of him.

Surely this was enough.  Honestly or dishonestly, what more could Spain expect of the republic’s best ally, than that he should use all his efforts to bring her back into Spanish subjection, should deprive her of commerce with three-quarters of the world, and compel her to re-establish the religion which she believed, at that period, to be incompatible with her constitutional liberties?  It is difficult to imagine a more profligate or heartless course than the one pursued at this juncture by Henry.  Secretly, he was intriguing, upon the very soil of the Netherlands, to filch from them that splendid commerce which was the wonder of the age, which had been invented and created by Dutch navigators and men of science, which was the very foundation of their State, and without which they could not exist, in order that he might appropriate it to himself, and transfer the East India Company to France; while at Paris he was solemnly engaging himself in a partnership with their ancient and deadly enemy to rob them of their precious and nobly gained liberty.  Was better proof ever afforded that God alone can protect us against those whom we trust?  Who was most dangerous to the United Provinces during those memorable peace negotiations, Spain the avowed enemy, or France the friend?

The little republic had but her own sword, her own brain, and her own purse to rely upon.  Elizabeth was dead, and James loved Spain better than he did the Netherlands, and quiet better than Spain.  “I have told you often,” said Caron, “and I say it once more, the Spaniard is lucky that he has such a peaceable king as this to deal with in England.”

The details of the new marriage project were arranged at Paris between the Nuncius, the Spanish ambassador, Don Pedro de Toledo, the diplomatic agent of the archdukes, and Henry’s ministers, precisely as if there had been no negotiations going on between the States and Spain.  Yet the French king was supposed to be the nearest friend of the States, and was consulted by them on every occasion, while his most intimate and trusted counsellor, the ingenuous Jeannin, whose open brow was stamped with sincerity, was privy to all their most secret deliberations.