Rebels and Reformers: Biographies for Young People

by Baron Arthur Ponsonby Ponsonby; Dorothea Ponsonby

Pressure had been brought to bear on her after the execution of Barneveld. The scaffold on which he had been executed was left standing for fifteen days, so as to frighten the other prisoners. Grotius’ wife was specially urged to get an acknowledgment of guilt from her husband and solicit a pardon for him, and promises were held out to her of a favorable hearing on the part of the Prince of Orange. But she stoutly refused to cast this dishonor on her husband, and with fierce resolution declared: “I will not do it—if he has deserved it, let them strike off his head.”

In the prison of Louvenstein Grotius found consolation in his studies. He never yielded to despair, but occupied his whole time reading, composing, and translating. His devoted wife, after several petitions, at last received permission to share his captivity, on the condition that if she came out she would not be allowed to return. She made friends with the jailer’s wife and others who might be of use, and after nearly two years she thought out a method of escape. The prisoner was allowed books. These were sent in a large chest, and those he had done with were sent back, together with his washing, to Gorcum. After a time Marie Grotius noticed that the warders let the chest pass without opening it. One day she persuaded her husband, after much entreaty, to get into the chest, in which she had had some holes bored. She locked it up and asked the soldiers to come in and carry it out as usual. It was a great risk, for she must have known that, had her plot been discovered, she and her husband would suffer heavy penalties. She must have exercised great self-control to prevent herself showing any sign of agitation or excitement. The soldiers complained that the chest was unusually heavy. “There must be an Arminian in it,” said one of them jestingly. Madame Grotius replied calmly, “There are indeed Arminian books in it.” There was a river to be crossed, and the chest was put in a boat. The soldiers declared it ought to be opened, but a maid and a valet who were in the plot managed to prevent this. The precious load was to be taken to the house of one of Grotius’ friends in Gorcum. But if it was to be heaved about like ordinary luggage, what would happen to the unfortunate captive inside, who was terribly cramped as it was? The maid had great presence of mind, and told the people on the shore that the chest was full of glass, and must be moved with particular care. So they got a horse-chair and shifted it very carefully to the appointed place. Grotius’ friend received the chest, and after he had sent all his servants out on various errands, opened it and greeted the escaped prisoner with open arms.

Grotius declared he was none the worse for the adventure, although he had naturally felt anxious lest he might be discovered. There was no time to be lost; he disguised himself as a mason, carrying a rule, hod, and trowel, and went out of the back door, accompanied by the maid, who did not leave him until he had reached safety. Then she returned to his wife and told her how successfully the plot had worked. Marie Grotius immediately informed the governor of the prison that her husband had escaped. She was placed in close confinement, but after a few days, by order of the States General, she was released and joined her husband, who had gone to Paris after spending a day or two at Antwerp.

On arriving in France, Louis XIII gave Grotius a cordial welcome, and a high pension was conferred on him. French pensions were easily granted, all the more so as they were rarely paid. It was in France, at the château of Balagni, which had been lent to him, that Grotius gave final shape to the great work of his life, the book on war and peace which I have already mentioned. A man treated as he had been might have been tempted to indulge in an attack on the authorities; he might have occupied his time satirizing his enemies and scoffing at the many signs of human folly he saw around him. But he did nothing of the sort. After writing an apology defending himself against the charges brought against him, he worked day and night to reconstruct, reform, and improve the foundations of human society. The book brought him in no profit whatever in the way of money, but it brought him reputation so widely spread and of such a lasting nature as no other legal work has ever enjoyed. He did not contemplate immediate success, but even so, he said, “ought we not to sow the seed which may be useful for posterity.”

But Grotius and his wife were very badly off, as the pension was paid irregularly. Cardinal Richelieu wanted to make use of his talents, but the terms he demanded, which would have deprived Grotius from having any freedom, prevented any such arrangement being possible. Accordingly, the Cardinal made things uncomfortable for him, and Grotius decided once more to attempt to live in his native land. But his reception in Holland was anything but cordial. His enemies were active, and the States General offered a high reward to any one who would deliver him up to them. So again he became an exile, and took refuge this time in Hamburg. He hoped his countrymen might return to reason, and so refused flattering offers made to him by the King of Denmark, by Spain, and even by Wallenstein, who was practically dictator of Germany.

At last he gave up all hope and entered the service of Sweden as Ambassador in Paris. Gustavus Adolphus of Sweden had died, and his only child Christina became Queen. During her childhood the Chancellor Oxenstiern acted as Regent. Grotius received his appointment from him in 1635. His mission was important and somewhat delicate. He had to keep up an active alliance between France and Sweden. Cardinal Richelieu was not easy to deal with, but the Ambassador showed his usual qualities of moderation and firmness, and succeeded towards the close of his embassy in renewing the treaty between Sweden and France on terms which were considered to do great honor to his diplomatic talents. He was troubled a good deal by the etiquette and ceremonial of diplomacy, and became involved in foolish disputes about rank and ceremonial questions, to which diplomatists have always attributed an exaggerated amount of importance. We can imagine that Grotius, with his clear mind and disregard of trivialities, may have offended his colleagues. It must have irritated them to associate with a man who, instead of chattering nonsense while waiting in the ante-rooms at court, would sit apart studying his Greek Testament.

He remained in the Swedish service for about ten years, but the life became irksome to him; the Swedish Government were inclined to think that a man who devoted so much of his time to writing could not give sufficient attention to diplomatic work, and at last Grotius applied for his recall. This was granted by Queen Christina, who had a very high opinion of the Ambassador, and received him in Stockholm on his return with every mark of favor. On quitting France, he passed on his way to Sweden through Amsterdam and Rotterdam, where he was more kindly received. The Queen of Sweden did her best to persuade Grotius to remain in her service as a Councilor of State, but he was bent on returning to Holland. Accordingly, on August 12, 1645, having received presents of money and plate from the Queen, he embarked for Lübeck. A violent storm drove the vessel on to the Pomeranian coast. Grotius, after a journey in an open wagon through wind and rain, arrived very ill at Rostock. Here he died in the presence of a Lutheran pastor, John Quistorp, who has left an account of his last moments. Quistorp, at his bedside, read him the parable of the Pharisee and the Publican, ending with the words, “God be merciful to me, a sinner,” and the dying scholar and statesman answered, “I am that Publican.” After repeating a prayer with the pastor, Grotius sank exhausted and breathed his last. He was buried first of all at Rostock, but as his wish was to rest in his native soil, his body was taken after a time to the Netherlands. It is difficult to believe, were it not historically true, that as the coffin was borne through the city of Rotterdam stones were thrown at it by the bigoted mob. It was laid finally in a crypt beneath the great church of Delft, his birthplace. The remains of two great champions of liberty and justice lie beneath the same roof, for close by the grave of Grotius is the sculptured tomb of William the Silent. His wife died shortly afterwards at The Hague. She had stood by him in the hour of need, encouraged him, consoled him, and helped him, and the story of his life will never be read without praise being given to the noble part she played in it.

I have said very little about the writings of Grotius, because it is impossible to describe fully all the learned books he brought out. Just as in the field of politics he worked for pacification, so in the world of religion he endeavored to the utmost of his ability to produce universal peace. He tried to find a simple statement of belief to which all contending parties would agree, and published a book called “The Road to Religious Peace.” “Perhaps,” he said, “by writing to reconcile such as entertain very opposite sentiments, I shall offend both parties: but if that should so happen I shall comfort myself with the example of him who said, ‘If I please men I am not the servant of Christ.’” He did offend both parties. No mere form of words can reconcile deep-seated differences in religious sentiment. Others before Grotius, and many too since, have made the same attempt to bring the different sections of religious thought together, but none have succeeded. The only advance that has been made has been an increase in the spirit of tolerance, which tends to prevent any outrageous persecution of one sect by another.

It seems curious that Christians, who people the nations which are by way of being the most civilized, should be more torn with religious discord, and should be more responsible for the world’s wars, than the peoples of other religions who inhabit the globe. They pretend to be followers of the Prince of Peace and to believe in the brotherhood of mankind, while the Church of Christ has become split into an ever-increasing number of warring sects, and the jealousy and enmity of nations are allowed to break into ever more ferocious armed conflict and mutual massacre.

The hope of improvement in these fundamental human relationships, national and religious, depends to a large extent on the number of men who are wise or farsighted enough to turn the mind of man away from the differences that lead to division and to strengthen the forces that lead to unity—in fact, to substitute harmony for discord. But the work will always progress slowly, because there are still so many natures which prefer fighting just from the love of quarreling, and they turn their anger against a conciliator even more violently than against those with whom they bitterly disagree.