irit. Certainly the correspondence
of Aerssens is full to overflowing of gratitude, respect, fervent
attachment to the person and exalted appreciation of the intellect and
high character of the Advocate.

There can be no question of Aerssen's consummate abilities. Whether his
heart were as sound as his head, whether his protestations of devotion
had the ring of true gold or not, time would show. Hitherto Barneveld had
not doubted him, nor had he found cause to murmur at Barneveld.

But the France of Henry IV., where the Dutch envoy was so all-powerful,
had ceased to exist. A duller eye than that of Aerssens could have seen
at a glance that the potent kingdom and firm ally of the Republic had
been converted, for a long time to come at least, into a Spanish
province. The double Spanish marriages (that of the young Louis XIII.
with the Infanta Anna, and of his sister with the Infante, one day to be
Philip IV.), were now certain, for it was to make them certain that the
knife of Ravaillac had been employed. The condition precedent to those
marriages had long been known. It was the renunciation of the alliance
between France and Holland. It was the condemnation to death, so far as
France had the power to condemn her to death, of the young Republic. Had
not Don Pedro de Toledo pompously announced this condition a year and a
half before? Had not Henry spurned the bribe with scorn? And now had not
Francis Aerssens been the first to communicate to his masters the fruit
which had already ripened upon Henry's grave? As we have seen, he had
revealed these intrigues long before they were known to the world, and
the French court knew that he had revealed them. His position had become
untenable. His friendship for Henry could not be of use to him with the
delicate-featured, double-chinned, smooth and sluggish Florentine, who
had passively authorized and actively profited by her husband's murder.

It was time for the Envoy to be gone. The Queen-Regent and Concini
thought so. And so did Villeroy and Sillery and the rest of the old
servants of the King, now become pensionaries of Spain. But Aerssens did
not think so. He liked his position, changed as it was. He was deep in
the plottings of Bouillon and Conde and the other malcontents against the
Queen-Regent. These schemes, being entirely personal, the rank growth of
the corruption and apparent disintegration of France, were perpetually
changing, and could be reduced to no principle. It