"Did you ever hear any one preach that?" replied the Prince.
"If they don't preach it, it is their inmost conviction," said the other.
And he proceeded to prove his position by copious citations.
"And suppose our ministers do preach this doctrine, is there anything strange in it, any reason why they should not do so?"
The Advocate expressed his amazement and horror at the idea.
"But does not God know from all eternity who is to be saved and who to be damned; and does He create men for any other end than that to which He from eternity knows they will come?"
And so they enclosed themselves in the eternal circle out of which it was not probable that either the soldier or the statesman would soon find an issue.
"I am no theologian," said Barneveld at last, breaking off the discussion.
"Neither am I," said the Stadholder. "So let the parsons come together. Let the Synod assemble and decide the question. Thus we shall get out of all this."
Next day a deputation of the secessionists waited by appointment on Prince Maurice. They found him in the ancient mediaeval hall of the sovereign counts of Holland, and seated on their old chair of state. He recommended them to use caution and moderation for the present, and to go next Sunday once more to Ryswyk. Afterwards he pledged himself that they should have a church at the Hague, and, if necessary, the Great Church itself.
But the Great Church, although a very considerable Catholic cathedral before the Reformation, was not big enough now to hold both Henry Rosaeus and John Uytenbogaert. Those two eloquent, learned, and most pugnacious divines were the respective champions in the pulpit of the opposing parties, as were the Advocate and the Stadholder in the council. And there was as bitter personal rivalry between the two as between the soldier and statesman.