Prince Maurice now almost openly avowed his pretensions to absolute sovereignty: he knew that his success wholly depended on the consent of Barneveldt. To seduce him to favor his designs he had recourse to the dowager princess of Orange, his mother-in-law, whose gentle character and exemplary conduct had procured her universal esteem and the influence naturally attendant on it. Maurice took care to make her understand that her interest in his object was not trifling. Long time attached to Gertrude van Mechlen, his favorite mistress, who had borne him several children, he now announced his positive resolution to remain unmarried; so that his brother Frederick Henry, the dowager's only son, would be sure to succeed to the sovereignty he aimed at. The princess, not insensible to this appeal, followed the instructions of Maurice, and broached the affair to Barneveldt; but he was inexorable. He clearly explained to her the perilous career on which the prince proposed to enter; he showed how great, how independent, how almost absolute, he might continue, without shocking the principles of republicanism by grasping at an empty dignity, which could not virtually increase his authority, and would most probably convulse the state to its foundation and lead to his own ruin. The princess, convinced by his reasoning, repaired to Maurice; but instead of finding him as ready a convert as she herself had been, she received as cold an answer as was compatible with a passionate temper, wounded pride, and disappointed ambition. The princess and Barneveldt recounted the whole affair to Maurier, the French ambassador; and his son has transmitted it to posterity.
We cannot follow the misguided prince in all the winding ways of intrigue and subterfuge through which he labored to reach his object. Religion, the holiest of sentiments, and Christianity, the most sacred of its forms, were perpetually degraded by being made the pretexts for that unworthy object. He was for a while diverted from its direct pursuit by the preparation made to afford assistance to some of the allies of the republic. Fifty thousand florins a month were granted to the duke of Savoy, who was at war with Spain; and seven thousand men, with nearly forty ships, were despatched to the aid of the republic of Venice, in its contest with Ferdinand, archduke of Gratz, who was afterward elected emperor. The honorary empire of the seas seems at this time to have been successfully claimed by the United Provinces. They paid back with interest the haughty conduct with which they had been long treated by the English; and they refused to pay the fishery duties to which the inhabitants of Great Britain were subject. The Dutch sailors had even the temerity, under pretext of pursuing pirates, to violate the British territory. They set fire to the town of Crookhaven, in Ireland, and massacred several of the inhabitants. King James, immersed in theological studies, appears to have passed slightly over this outrage. More was to have been expected from his usual attention to the affairs of Ireland; his management of which ill-fated country is the best feature of his political character, and ought, to Irish feelings at least, to be considered to redeem its many errors. But he took fire at the news that the states had prohibited the importation of cloth dyed and dressed in England. It required the best exertion of Barneveldt's talents to pacify him; and it was not easy to effect this through the jaundiced medium of the ambassador Carleton. But it was unanswerably argued by the pensionary that the manufacture of cloth was one of those ancient and natural sources of wealth which England had ravished from the Netherlands, and which the latter was justified in recovering by every effort consistent with national honor and fair principles of government.
The influence of Prince Maurice had gained complete success for the Calvinist party, in its various titles of Gomarists, non-remonstrants, etc. The audacity and violence of these ferocious sectarians knew no bounds. Outrages, too many to enumerate, became common through the country; and Arminianism was on all sides assailed and persecuted. Barneveldt frequently appealed to Maurice without effect; and all the efforts of the former to obtain justice by means of the civil authorities were paralyzed by the inaction in which the prince retained the military force. In this juncture, the magistrates of various towns, spurred on by Barneveldt, called out the national militia, termed Waardegelders, which possessed the right of arming at its own expense for the protection of the public peace. Schism upon schism was the consequence, and the whole country was reduced to that state of anarchy so favorable to the designs of an ambitious soldier already in the enjoyment of almost absolute power. Maurice possessed all the hardihood and vigor suited to such an occasion. At the head of two companies of infantry, and accompanied by his brother Frederick Henry, he suddenly set out at night from The Hague; arrived at the Brille; and in defiance of the remonstrances of the magistrates, and in violation of the rights of the town, he placed his devoted garrison in that important place. To justify this measure, reports were spread that Barneveldt intended to deliver it up to the Spaniards; and the ignorant, insensate, and ungrateful people swallowed the calumny.
This and such minor efforts were, however, all subservient to the one grand object of utterly destroying, by a public proscription, the whole of the patriot party, now identified with Arminianism. A national synod was loudly clamored for by the Gomarists; and in spite of all opposition on constitutional grounds, it was finally proclaimed. Uitenbogaard, the enlightened pastor and friend of Maurice, who on all occasions labored for the general good, now moderated, as much as possible, the violence of either party; but he could not persuade Barneveldt to render himself, by compliance, a tacit accomplice with a measure that he conceived fraught with violence to the public privileges. He had an inflexible enemy in Carleton, the English ambassador. His interference carried the question; and it was at his suggestion that Dordrecht, or Dort, was chosen for the assembling of the synod. Du Maurier, the French ambassador, acted on all occasions as a mediator; but to obtain influence at such a time it was necessary to become a partisan. Several towns—Leyden, Gouda, Rotterdam, and some others—made a last effort for their liberties, and formed a fruitless confederation.
Barneveldt solicited the acceptance of his resignation of all his offices. The states-general implored him not to abandon the country at such a critical moment: he consequently maintained his post. Libels the most vindictive and atrocious were published and circulated against him; and at last, forced from his silence by these multiplied calumnies, he put forward his "Apology," addressed to the States of Holland.
This dignified vindication only produced new outrages; Maurice, now become Prince of Orange by the death of his elder brother without children, employed his whole authority to carry his object, and crush Barneveldt. At the head of his troops he seized on towns, displaced magistrates, trampled under foot all the ancient privileges of the citizens, and openly announced his intention to overthrow the federative constitution. His bold conduct completely terrified the states-general. They thanked him; they consented to disband the militia; formally invited foreign powers to favor and protect the synod about to be held at Dort. The return of Carleton from England, where he had gone to receive the more positive promises of support from King James, was only wanting, to decide Maurice to take the final step; and no sooner did the ambassador arrive at The Hague than Barneveldt and his most able friends, Grotius, Hoogerbeets, and Ledenberg, were arrested in the name of the states-general.
The country was taken by surprise; no resistance was offered. The concluding scenes of the tragedy were hurried on; violence was succeeded by violence, against public feeling and public justice. Maurice became completely absolute in everything but in name. The supplications of ambassadors, the protests of individuals, the arguments of statesmen, were alike unavailing to stop the torrent of despotism and injustice. The synod of Dort was opened on the 13th of November, 1618. Theology was mystified; religion disgraced; Christianity outraged. And after one hundred and fifty-two sittings, during six months' display of ferocity and fraud, the solemn mockery was closed on the 9th of May, 1619, by the declaration of its president, that "its miraculous labors had made hell tremble."
Proscriptions, banishments, and death were the natural consequences of this synod. The divisions which it had professed to extinguish were rendered a thousand times more violent than before. Its decrees did incalculable ill to the cause they were meant to promote. The Anglican Church was the first to reject the canons of Dort with horror and contempt. The Protestants of France and Germany, and even Geneva, the nurse and guardian of Calvinism, were shocked and disgusted, and unanimously softened down the rigor of their respective creeds. But the moral effects of this memorable conclave were too remote to prevent the sacrifice which almost immediately followed the celebration of its rites. A trial by twenty-four prejudiced enemies, by courtesy called judges, which in its progress and its result throws judicial dignity into scorn, ended in the condemnation of Barneveldt and his fellow patriots, for treason against the liberties they had vainly labored to save. Barneveldt died on the scaffold by the hands of the executioner on the 13th of May, 1619, in the seventy-second year of his age. Grotius and Hoogerbeets were sentenced to perpetual imprisonment. Ledenberg committed suicide in his cell, sooner than brave the tortures which he anticipated at the hands of his enemies.
Many more pages than we are able to afford sentences might be devoted to the details of these iniquitous proceedings, and an account of their awful consummation. The pious heroism of Barneveldt was never excelled by any martyr to the most holy cause. He appealed to Maurice against the unjust sentence which condemned him to death; but he scorned to beg his life. He met his fate with such temperate courage as was to be expected from the dignified energy of his life. His last words were worthy a philosopher whose thoughts, even in his latest moments, were superior to mere personal hope or fear, and turned to the deep mysteries of his being. "O God!" cried De Barneveldt, "what then is man?" as he bent his head to the sword that severed it from his body, and sent the inquiring spirit to learn the great mystery for which it longed.