"Well—I must admit it! Your popularity, once unbounded, has been somewhat impaired—but it is still strong."
"You deceive yourself, my friend; my popularity is completely destroyed. A month ago, when divine providence snatched me from almost certain death, those who a short time before would have cursed my assassins, saw in the crime nothing but a providential punishment. They called me traitor—and said the hand of God smote me! These charges of treason unchained public hatred against my brother and myself. A short while ago my father's house was torn down by a furious mob at Dortrecht; and my brother—my brother!—one of the most virtuous citizens of the Republic, is at this hour held in confinement, imprisoned as an assassin, upon the mere word of a wretch who is smarting under the brand of infamy. I nevertheless hope that, despite the inveterate hatred of our enemies, my brother's innocence will baffle the infamous calumny."
John De Witt's confidence in the happy issue of the process instituted against his brother saddened Serdan's heart. It reminded him of the alarm Monsieur Tilly expressed for the life of Cornelius De Witt. Serdan was still hopeful, and preferred not to disturb the peace of mind of the ex-Grand Pensionary of Holland with the latest tidings. The painful state of agitation into which the mind of Nominoë was thrown increased by the second. He suddenly turned his moist eyes to his father and said:
"The De Witt brothers accused of treason to the Republic! Good God, it is enough to make one despair of humanity! Oh, blind people! Or are you stupid and cruel? Are you ever to be a foe to your most generous defenders? Will you ever allow them to be dragged to the scaffold?"
"My son, we must never despair of humanity. The people must never be flattered. To do so is to debase it, and to debase oneself. Its errors must be condemned but excused—when they are excusable," put in John De Witt addressing Nominoë with affectionate reproach. "The people believes me a traitor. I deplore, I pity its blindness more than I condemn it. It is to be excused—on account of its ignorance."
Nominoë, his father and Serdan contemplated John De Witt in astonishment. The young mariner resumed:
"What, monsieur!—is the people to be excused when it charges you with treason? Should it not judge you by your acts?"
"And if my acts seem to-day to turn against me overwhelmingly, would not that explain the people's error with regard to me?"
And John De Witt, responding to a questioning look from Nominoë, added: "Listen, my son, the lesson is grave and instructive—listen. My friends, my brother and myself (we are given the name of the 'French party') now about ten years ago, in 1662, used all our influence with the Assembly of the States to bind the Republic in a close alliance with France, our natural ally, as we considered her. Louis XIV was then quite young; if he exhibited certain foibles of youth, I considered him gifted with their reciprocal virtues—honesty, generosity, faithfulness to his pledged word. The King pledged himself to assist the Republic in the event of a war with England, and to respect the territory of Spanish Flanders, in accord with the act of renunciation of the treaty of the Pyrenees. But what happened? The increasing prosperity of our commerce, which extends from one end of the world to the other, our maritime preponderance and our wealth awakened the jealousy and cupidity of our neighbors; besides, the very existence of our Republic, ever more and more flourishing, seemed to Louis XIV a dangerous example to his own people. Accordingly, winning England to his side with bribes, he drove her to declare war against us, and, so far from keeping faith with us, and assisting us with his fleets, he not only did not furnish us a single ship—no, I err, he did send us one, a fire ship—but he left us isolated to struggle with England single-handed, and capped the climax by finally dropping his mask, and also declaring war upon us, in concert with England."
Perceiving the indignation marked upon Nominoë's face, John De Witt added: