idle medal. Medals may, however, indicate a preparatory war. Louis the
Fourteenth was so often compared to the sun at its meridian, that some
of his creatures may have imagined that, like the sun, he could dart
into any part of Europe as he willed, and be as cheerfully received.[99]
The Dutch minister, whose Christian name was _Joshua_, however, had a
medal struck of Joshua stopping the sun in his course, inferring that
this miracle was operated by his little republic. The medal itself is
engraven in Van Loon's voluminous _Histoire Medallique du Pays Bas_, and
in Marchand's _Dictionnaire Historique_, who labours to prove against
twenty authors that the Dutch ambassador was not the inventor; it was
not, however, unworthy of him, and it conveyed to the world the high
feeling of her power which Holland had then assumed. Two years after the
noise about this medal the republic paid dear for the device; but thirty
years afterwards this very burgomaster concluded a glorious peace, and
France and Spain were compelled to receive the mediation of the Dutch
Joshua with the French Sun.[100] In these vehicles of national satire,
it is odd that the phlegmatic Dutch, more than any other nation, and
from the earliest period of their republic, should have indulged freely,
if not licentiously. It was a republican humour. Their taste was usually
gross. We owe to them, even in the reign of Elizabeth, a severe medal on
Leicester, who, having retired in disgust from the government of their
provinces, struck a medal with his bust, reverse a dog and sheep,

_Non gregem, sed ingratos invitus desero_;

on which the angry juvenile states struck another, representing an ape
and young ones; reverse, Leicester near a fire,

_Fugiens fumum, incidit in ignem._

Another medal, with an excellent portrait of Cromwell, was struck by the
Dutch. The Protector, crowned with laurels, is on his knees, laying his
head in the lap of the commonwealth, but loosely exhibiting himself to
the French and Spanish ambassadors with gross indecency: the Frenchman,
covered with _fleur de lis_, is pushing aside the grave Don, and
disputes with him the precedence--_Retire-toy; l'honneur appartient
au roy mon maitre, Louis le Grand_. Van Loon is very right in denouncing
this same medal, so grossly flattering to the English, as most
detestable and indelicate! But why does Van Loon envy us this lumpish
invention? why does the Dutchman quarrel with his own cheese? The hon