easily be
attempting to snap an advantage from the other. I have sometimes
complained of many other things in which my subjects suffered great
injustice from you, but all that is excusable. I will willingly listen to
your people and grant them to be in the right when they are so. But I
will never allow them to be in the right when they mistrust me. If I had
been like many other princes, I should never have let the advantage of
the cautionary towns slip out of my fingers, but rather by means of them
attempted to get even a stronger hold on your country. I have had plenty
of warnings from great statesmen in France, Germany, and other nations
that I ought to give them up nevermore. Yet you know how frankly and
sincerely I acquitted myself in that matter without ever making
pretensions upon your state than the pretensions I still make to your
friendship and co-operation."

James, after this allusion to an important transaction to be explained in
the next chapter, then made an observation or two on a subject which was
rapidly overtopping all others in importance to the States, and his
expressions were singularly at variance with his last utterances in that
regard. "I tell you," he said, "that you have no right to mistrust me in
anything, not even in the matter of religion. I grieve indeed to hear
that your religious troubles continue. You know that in the beginning I
occupied myself with this affair, but fearing that my course might be
misunderstood, and that it might be supposed that I was seeking to
exercise authority in your republic, I gave it up, and I will never
interfere with the matter again, but will ever pray God that he may give
you a happy issue out of these troubles."

Alas! if the King had always kept himself on that height of amiable
neutrality, if he had been able to govern himself in the future by these
simplest principles of reason and justice, there might have been perhaps
a happier issue from the troubles than time was like to reveal.

Once more James referred to the crisis pending in German affairs, and as
usual spoke of the Clove and Julich question as if it were a simple
matter to be settled by a few strokes of the pen and a pennyworth of
sealing-wax, instead of being the opening act in a vast tragedy, of which
neither he, nor Carom nor Barneveld, nor Prince Maurice, nor the youthful
king of France, nor Philip, nor Matthias, nor any of the men now foremost
in the conduct of affairs, was destined to