This expedition, however, does not seem on the whole to have been very successful, probably on account of the roughness of the weather. On his return he found the people violently irritated by false reports of the intermeddling of himself and the other deputies whom he had taken with him. He was particularly supposed to have thwarted De Ruyter, but, unfortunately for his enemies, De Ruyter happened at this time to come to the Hague, and to choose for his lodgings the house of the very man who was reported to have behaved so ill. De Ruyter wrote a letter to the States, not only vindicating, but warmly praising him. De Witt also wrote an elaborate account of all his proceedings; the tide of opinion changed. He received an enthusiastic vote of thanks, and the offer of a large present, which he declined.
De Witt only left the fleet in order to plunge deep into the tangled thicket of negotiation. Louis XIV. was indeed nominally an ally, but he was very slack and very procrastinating; delighted to see his two neighbours tearing each other to pieces, and not anxious to help the Dutch more than he was obliged. Denmark was making perfidious overtures, first to England, and then to Holland. De Witt eventually succeeded in forming an alliance with her, and also with Brandenburg, but for a long time she required watching with constant attention. Meanwhile Charles II. had induced the Bishop of Münster to invade the United Provinces with 8000 men. The Bishop proved to be a bad general, was threatened by Brandenburg in his rear, and was induced by De Witt to leave the country before he had done much harm. But Holland had received a warning to which she ought to have attended. The army was evidently no longer the same as in the old days of Maurice and Frederick Henry. There were ugly stories of incompetent officers, and of men unwilling to expose themselves to the fire of the enemy. But peace was made with the Bishop; men’s minds were diverted by the fierce fighting which was going on at sea; and all this was hushed up, and forgotten for a time.
All parties in the State were now united in a vigorous prosecution of the war. De Witt, who, as I have said, seems to have been the one man besides his brother who looked after everything, had taken care that the education of the young Prince of Orange should not be neglected. Though he opposed with all his might intrusting him with the offices held by his ancestors, he was magnanimous enough to provide that, if he did obtain them, he should be qualified to fill them. The two factions seemed now, in the face of a common danger, to have been for the moment reconciled. A large and well-furnished fleet took the sea in the summer of 1666 under De Ruyter and the younger Van Tromp; on June I they met the English, under Prince Rupert and the Duke of Albemarle. One of those desperate sea-battles took place which form the peculiar feature of the period of which we are writing. The English were outnumbered, but not more so than they have been in many of the most decisive of their victories over other nations. For four days the desperate struggle continued, and it ended in what the Dutch called a victory, and the English a drawn battle. On July 25 another engagement took place. The English, who had by this time been reinforced, were now successful, but only after the most desperate fighting. Van Tromp had become separated from De Ruyter, either from accident or by design; but De Ruyter kept his station till night against overwhelming numbers, and next morning moved sullenly away, frequently exclaiming, ‘My God! is there not one among all these bullets which will put an end to my miserable life?’
Not only were the Dutch defeated, but dissension of the most violent nature broke out between the two admirals, and among all the officers of the fleet. The Provinces were in consternation; De Witt was sent out to endeavour to put things straight. Van Tromp’s commission was taken from him, and some of the captains were punished; but the most guilty are said to have escaped on account of their family connections.
Both nations were now beginning to be desirous of peace. Holland had been reduced to great distress, and Charles had found the war attended with little glory and much expense. De Witt, afraid of the intrigues of the Orange party, refused to receive an Ambassador at the Hague, but negotiations were begun at Paris. It was agreed as a basis that each country should retain whatever possessions they at the moment had. This was, on the whole, favourable to England, but some trifling matters remained to be adjusted, and England meanwhile proposed immediate disarmament. De Witt, knowing the character of King Charles, and seeing his opportunity, persuaded the States to refuse. Charles, as he expected, thinking the matter virtually settled, and wanting his money for other purposes, made no preparations for the coming year. De Witt, however, equipped a large fleet, which he despatched, early in the summer, under the command of his brother Cornelius, straight to the Thames. Sheerness was taken, and the Dutch sailed up the river. The Medway was guarded by a chain drawn across it, and by three ships of war; the chain was broken, and the ships burnt. Three more ships were burnt at Chatham; the Dutch guns were heard in London, and there was general consternation. Charles immediately sent orders to give way upon all the points still insisted on by the Dutch, and peace was signed at Breda.
Thus ended the war between England and Holland. We may console our national pride by feeling that our ill success was as much owing to our own imbecile Government as to the merits of our enemy, but it will be impossible to refuse a tribute of admiration to the latter. We have grown so accustomed since, in reading of our many glorious wars, to look with pride upon the map, and to compare our own small island with the large proportions of our various opponents, that it almost amuses us, now that it is so long ago, for once to observe the contrary, and to remember that we were formerly defied and held at bay by a country of almost exactly the same size as Wales.
I have said that it was some time before England and Holland recognised the fact, to us so obvious, that it was the common interest of both countries to join together against France. The rising power of that country, and the ambition displayed by her King, now began to open the eyes of her neighbours. Even Charles II. was for a few years persuaded to adopt the course required by reason; after some preliminary negotiation, Sir William Temple was sent to the Hague, where, with a celerity quite unexampled in anything at that time dependent on the movements of the Dutch Government, he concluded a Triple Alliance between England, Holland, and Sweden. This was carried out by De Witt. He had for some time been convinced of the necessity for it, but he had great difficulties in his way, as some of the Provinces were in favour of the suicidal policy of an agreement with France for the division of the Spanish territory in Flanders; De Witt only carried his point by a breach of the Constitution. He persuaded the States-General to sign the treaty at once, instead of referring it back to the local Assemblies, as they were in strictness bound to do. Had he not felt sure of his position with the people, he could only have done this at the risk of his head; but there was no danger. He was at this moment at the very height of popularity and fame. There is some interest in contemplating a great man at such a moment, particularly when there is in the background a dark shadow of impending fate. The interest is in this instance increased by the modest dignity of the hero; there is something very striking in the picture drawn by Temple of the life and habits of one who at this period shone prominently among the most conspicuous figures in Europe,—his simple dress, his frugal house-keeping, and his single servant. He lived upon a salary of £300 a year, shortly to be increased to £700; and he steadily refused all presents from the State; accepting with difficulty a small one of £1500 from the rich families of his own Province. His third term of office now expired: he was again elected for a fourth period of five years; it was to be the last time.
We are now to witness first the decline, and then the sudden close, of this memorable career. De Witt’s popularity with the multitude was never more than a temporary matter; the Prince of Orange was now growing up, and had already displayed more than ordinary ability. He was admitted into the Council, and he gathered round him a considerable party—not large enough to assume the management of affairs, but sufficiently so to cause division and weakness. On the other hand, the party of burgomasters and rich citizens—the burgess oligarchy, as we have called it—to which De Witt properly belonged, and which had brought him into power, became divided within itself, one portion only giving him undeviating support. De Witt had ceased, to a certain extent, to be a party man, and every Minister in a Constitutional Government who does this runs the risk of being deserted by his followers. We have seen that, even in the height of his power, he was unable to procure the punishment of the aristocratic sea-captains who had misbehaved, and he was now equally unsuccessful in his attempts to remodel and reorganise the army, which was largely officered from the same class. But perhaps he did not push his attempts in this direction with as much vigour as he ought, for he relied largely upon diplomacy for preventing the necessity of employing any army at all.
Louis meanwhile applied all his energy and skill to dissolve the Triple Alliance. He certainly succeeded in persuading the Dutch to enter into negotiations, but to this De Witt only consented with the utmost reluctance, evidently because he could not help himself; or we may feel pretty sure that he would have succeeded in keeping his country firm to its true interest. In England, however, things were very different: it was the time of the Cabal—the worst and most profligate Ministry we have ever had. By bribery of the Ministers, by the promise of a large subsidy to the King, and with the help of the beautiful Duchess of Portsmouth, whom he sent over for the purpose, Louis persuaded our Government suddenly to reverse their whole policy, to break all their engagements, and to declare war against the United Provinces.
The French were already prepared. An army of 130,000 men, commanded, under the King, by Condé, Turenne, Luxembourg, and all the most distinguished generals of France, advanced upon the frontier. The Dutch troops were panicstricken and demoralised; the army had, as we know, been allowed to get into a very unsatisfactory condition. De Witt had relied chiefly upon the navy for maintaining the greatness of his country; but he had not been insensible to the deficiencies of the other branch of the service. He had, as I have said, tried hard, but not hard enough, to remedy them. His party had always been pledged to the reduction of the troops in order to keep down the taxation; the adherents of the House of Orange, who comprised the best officers of the country, had been unwilling to serve under the present Government, and the Government had been equally unwilling to employ them. On the other hand, the rich citizens, whose political support was the main prop of the Administration, had insisted upon all the best commands being conferred upon their sons and other relations, who were too often utterly incompetent. The French passed the Rhine with only a faint show of opposition, and, scattering their enemies before them, marched almost to the very suburbs of Amsterdam. In the meantime the Prince of Orange had been made, first Captain-General of the United Provinces, and then Stadtholder of Holland and Zealand; his partisans were everywhere triumphant, and his opponents, particularly after a gallant but indecisive naval engagement, and a vain effort by De Witt to make peace, were utterly crushed and discredited. Now comes the tragic termination of our story. Cornelius de Witt had just distinguished himself highly in the sea-fight of Solebay, but, on the testimony of one of the most infamous of mankind, he was accused of the preposterous charge of attempting to poison the Prince of Orange. He was put to the torture, which he endured with heroic constancy, and nothing could be wrung from him. But he was sentenced to be banished. John de Witt, whose assassination had already been attempted a short time before, went to convey his brother out of prison, and start him on his journey. The prison was besieged by an armed mob, who blockaded the door, and eventually broke into the room, where they found the two brothers—Cornelius in bed, shattered by the torture which he had recently undergone, and John, sitting upon the foot of the bed, calmly reading his Bible. Cornelius, whose fiery and impetuous nature formed a contrast to the composure and self-control of John, rose, in spite of his weakness, and angrily bade the intruders begone. John, having tried in vain to reason with them, put his arm round his brother, and assisted him to descend the stairs. In the courtyard they were hustled by the crowd, separated, and eventually murdered,—John, as he fell, covering his face, like Cæsar, with his cloak.