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Player Development The Holistic Method 1st Edition
John Cone Digital Instant Download
Author(s): John Cone, Gareth Smith
ISBN(s): 9781003246268, 1003246265
Edition: 1
File Details: PDF, 20.09 MB
Year: 2022
Language: english
Adopting a network science approach to the performance development process
helps to highlight, appreciate, and address the complexities surrounding
the reality of the non-linear and complex factors associated with the player
development pathway.
Dr. Dave Adams, Union of European Football Associations (UEFA) Coach
Educator and Football Association of Wales (FAW) Technical Director
Player Development

Player Development: The Holistic Method provides the first holistic, evidence-
based performance development method in sport. Focusing on the world’s
largest sport, soccer, this book weaves together the interconnected layers
driving player performance development to define a novel training method.
In performance sport, narratives defining success or failure are steeped with
stories of chance. The reality is that player performance and athlete development
leading to career success is the byproduct of optimizing interconnected
experiences toward maximizing the likelihood of individual success. It is the
application of a holistic method that reduces the influence of luck and increases
the likelihood of individual and team success. This book is the pathway to
understanding and facilitating individual player development leading to elite
performance success. This book reveals not only a holistic method, but also
a universal method breaking down perceived and real barriers to provide a
method transcending domains and specializations – a unified approach.
The book introduces an evidence-based method toward performance
development in soccer. It is key reading for students of coaching, talent
development, sport performance and ancillary specializations, and practicing
professionals in the field of player and performance development and coaching.

Dr. John Cone is a sports scientist working with the United States Soccer
Federation and professional, collegiate, and youth teams. He was a director of
sports science in Major League Soccer and an assistant coach in the MLS and
in colleges across the United States. John has developed and taught the sports
science curriculum for the USSF pro, A, B and C, and goalkeeping licenses
since 2015, and performance development for return to play in Athletic
Training Education Programs at UNC-Greensboro and High Point University.

Dr. Gareth Smith has coaching experience at youth, collegiate, and senior
national team levels. He serves as a coach educator and coach educator
developer with the United States Soccer Federation and in similar roles in
other federations in the Confederation of North, Central America and
Caribbean Association Football (CONCACAF) and Union of European
Football Associations (UEFA). Gareth has a Ph.D. in educational leadership
with research areas including sport psychology, methodology, and curriculum
design and has over two decades’ experience in leadership as a technical director
of national, regional, and state sport systems within the United States.
Player Development
The Holistic Method

John Cone and Gareth Smith

Cover image: Getty
First published 2023
by Routledge
605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158
and by Routledge
4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon, OX14 4RN
Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business
© 2023 John Cone and Gareth Smith
The right of John Cone and Gareth Smith to be identified as authors of
this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the
Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or
utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now
known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in
any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing
from the publishers.
Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or
registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation
without intent to infringe.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
A catalog record for this book has been requested
ISBN: 978-1-032-15909-6 (hbk)
ISBN: 978-1-032-15907-2 (pbk)
ISBN: 978-1-003-24626-8 (ebk)
DOI: 10.4324/9781003246268
Typeset in Bembo
by Apex CoVantage, LLC
Contents

List of Figuresviii
List of Tablesxi
Acknowledgmentsxii

Introduction 1

1 Holism: The Interconnected Nature of Performance

Development3

2 Player Performance Development as a Nested Process in

Human Development 64

3 The Player in the Game 99

4 Design of the Player Experience in Training 119

5 The Outer Ecosystem Encapsulating the Player Experience 194

6 Application of the Holistic Method 263

7 Application of the Holistic Method – Special Topics and

Specializations302

Index349
Figures

1.1 The conceptual whole and potential interactions between

the structures 17
1.2 Conceptual anatomical–functional interactions within and
between anatomical layers of an organ structure 18
1.3 Conceptual interactions within and between anatomical structures 19
1.4 Theoretical static temporal network of the whole 20
1.5 The looping timeline of the player experience 23
1.6 The time-oriented continuum of stress through adaptation 28
1.7 The cumulative adaptive response driving performance
development permanence 30
1.8 Spectrum of synchronization 35
1.9 The relationship between system synchronization and
isolated node training 37
1.10 Player experience within the ecosystem 40
2.1 Emotional connectivity of the experience and the ecosystem 74
2.2 The single training experience in relation to development 80
2.3 Dynamics of the player performance experience 83
3.1 Performance interdependence of dyad in the team 101
3.2 The network interactions of player functional groups
considered relative to triadic relationships 103
3.3 The interactions between the two teams 106
3.4 The player experience relative to the constants and coach-
derived game moments 107
3.5 Game stability and the antithetical experience of two teams 108
3.6 The syncing of looping timelines across a single player network 110
3.7 Levels of manipulation from the individual to group to team 111
4.1 Reduction in complexity as a function of player interactions 123
4.2 Proximal player groupings across variable size games 124
4.3 Comparison of spatiotemporal moments in 4v4 versus 11v11 126
4.4 3v3 derivatives relative to the game 127
4.5 The spatiotemporal interdependencies of players in a 3v3
derivative of the game 128
4.6 Derivatives of the 3v3 in training 130
 Figures ix
4.7 Spatiotemporal experience of players in a 2v2 132
4.8 Vertical shift in the 11v11 spatial relationships 133
4.9 Analysis of spatial relationships of two teams (meters) in
the game 135
4.10 Numerical offset in a 7v6 training exercise 136
4.11 Time in relation to the player experience 138
4.12 Holistic dynamics of the performance training exercise 139
4.13 The competency-to-complexity ratio 141
4.14 Increasing and decreasing ratios of complexity and competency 142
4.15 Universal spectrum of training methodology 144
4.16 Layers of exercise complexity 145
4.17 Interconnected elements accelerating the training exercise for
fitness development 150
4.18 Holistic consideration of the fitness-fatigue relationship 151
4.19 Shift in cognitive processing with numerical complexity 153
4.20 Syncing readiness and training demand toward maximizing
developmental effect 157
4.21 Interconnected nature of readiness and the player’s
developmental trajectory in the session 158
4.22 Global demand, session duration, readiness and adaptive
permanence159
4.23 Dynamics of a microcycle 161
4.24 Mapping the year’s competition demands 164
4.25 Network-based interactions driving the macrocycle 165
4.26 Network of prescriptive training and programming variables 166
4.27 Layers of specificity in athleticism from holistic to isolated 169
4.28 Physical agility and its underpinnings 171
5.1 Sport systems’ influence on the individual player experience 196
5.2 Constants within sport systems 197
5.3 Comparison of the relative extremes in chronological age,
ages 5–25 years 199
5.4 Trajectory of relative age changes within a team 201
5.5 Chronological age and the interaction of two teams 202
5.6 Relative age differences and associated sprint differences
in males 203
5.7 Chronological age and rate of growth in height and weight,
and percentage differences in age within each year 205
5.8 Interconnected layers of age, rate of growth in height and
maturity206
5.9 Maximal potential variability in chronological age, growth
metrics and maturation 207
5.10 Team comparison of chronological versus biological age
range in U14 males 209
5.11 Percentage relative differences in chronological and
biological age in U14 males 210
x Figures
5.12 Percentage relative difference in chronological age and
maturity offset in U14 males 211
5.13 Normal growth in males and prevalence of injury risk 212
5.14 Years since peak height velocity (PHV) and percentage
relative difference in U20 males 213
5.15 Variability in chronological age and years since PHV in a
four-year college team 215
5.16 Chronological age variability in a professional team 216
5.17 Youth game formats, complexity and spatial interactions 219
5.18 The interconnectedness of time in competition scheduling 224
5.19 Variability in competition seasons within a year 226
5.20 Interconnectedness of cultural networks influencing the
player experience 240
6.1 The player performance development continuum 264
6.2 Progressive exercise complexity 266
6.3 Diversification via the player’s multi-sport experience 269
6.4 Quantifiable dynamics of the inner ecosystem of invasion sports 269
6.5 Purposeful diversification of the player’s specialized sport
experience273
6.6 Progressing from sport diversification toward sport specialization 279
6.7 Isolated progression of synergistic and supplementary
characteristics from early performance development (EPD)
to transitional performance development (TPD) 283
6.8 Global to isolated synergistic and supplementary athletic
characteristics during lifelong performance development (LPD) 287
6.9 Relative variability in age, growth and maturation in youth
and adolescence 290
6.10 Distribution of players by percentage relative age difference 291
6.11 Percentage relative age difference and percentile growth 292
6.12 Percentage relative age, percentile height and maturity offset
in a male U14 team 293
7.1 Universal training methodology and specialty positions 303
7.2 Progressive network of prescriptive variables in preparative training 309
7.3 Dynamics of exercise prescription and training design 312
7.4 11v11 micro-focus on area of the field and game moment 315
7.5 Readiness–demand continuum for post-training strength and
power development 319
7.6 Optimizing workflow in relation to the team training microcycle 320
7.7 Phases of return to performance (RTP) across
interdependent prescriptive training variables 324
7.8 Progressive network of prescriptive variables defining testing
in Phase 1 325
7.9 Optimizing the field-based running progression in return to
performance (RTP) 329
7.10 Systematic problem-solving of a training method 332
7.11 Integration of testing along the development continuum 340
Tables

4.1 Training session types, readiness, training load and

adaptation time 160
4.2 Mobility training modalities 172
4.3 Subterms of concentric and stretch-shortening
cycle (SSC) power 176
6.1 Soccer-specific demands in reference to synergistic
characteristics274
6.2 Dual demands of soccer and basketball in reference to
synergistic characteristics 275
6.3 Soccer-specific, and dual soccer and basketball, demands
in reference to supplementary characteristics 276
6.4A–B Synergistic and supplementary demands across invasion
sports280
Acknowledgments

From conceptualization to the written composition of any book, the work is

never the product of the authors alone. We would like to foremost recognize
the contributions and support of our families in this process.
John:

To my son and wife who I love more than anything. Steve, your patience
and understanding at 4 years old has been phenomenal. Cindy, for always
supporting me, but also challenging me, my thinking, and most of all
to be self-reflective. To my sister, Dominique, for your help and time
editing the book, your clarity has been incredibly helpful. To my mom,
who arguably loved the game more than me, a portion of this was of
course written by your bedside. To my dad for forming my critical think-
ing through his own approach to science. You are both sorely missed.
Thanks to Nate Berry for pushing my thinking, being a great friend,
and for reviewing our work here. Thanks to Mark Simpson for your
reviews, feedback and always making me think practically about evidence
in plain sight. Finally, to all the coaches, mentors and mentees I have
worked with, your questions and challenges for me to explain the why
have helped me grow immeasurably.

Gareth:

Any work of significance is often a synergistic product influenced by many

minds and mentors. I am grateful to many people, both inside and out-
side the field of sport, for their influence, inspiration and insight which
has shaped me as a person, my coaching journey and ultimately this
book. In many ways, each of your fingerprints of knowledge, guidance
and insights are sprinkled throughout the following pages.
On a personal level, I would like to, first and foremost, thank God who has
granted me an incredibly blessed journey and countless opportunities to
be impacted by, as well as to impact and serve, others. To my incredible
wife, Cesia, and our two wonderful daughters, Audrey and Charlize. You
are my inspiration, and it is a blessing to spend my one and only life with
 Acknowledgments xiii
you. Thank you for your unconditional love, support and encourage-
ment throughout this process from inception to fruition. To my mom,
for instilling in me a passion for reading, a deep appreciation for my
humble roots, and for always encouraging and challenging me to be the
best version of myself. To my dad: we lost you too early. Our short time
together helped me appreciate that time is our greatest gift, and that life
is brief and more fragile than we perceive it. To my brothers and my sis-
ters, each of you have had such an incredible impact in shaping me and
my character. Finally, to Dr. Robyn Cooper for your caring and learner-
centered mentorship and for always challenging me to think logically,
critically, and practically when examining the gap between theory and
practice.
Exploring the Variety of Random
Documents with Different Content
 “You have before you a long and difficult task—but a holy one;
you will need to be strong, and resolute, and calm—you have half
Europe to hearten, half Europe to defy.”
“Speak to me!” cried William. “Speak to me like that!”
The old man stared at the row of candles on the black bureau; his
pale blue eyes were clear and shining.
“This is a dark hour, a time of misery, of bitterness, of despair. The
tyrant triumphs; vanity, lust, and blood walk hand in hand across our
land! But God, who planted in your breast this fervour, will not
patiently endure the blasphemer. You can save His faith, you can
raise His land from bondage, you can be the captain of His armies;
you can humble the arrogant, break the power of France, and
establish a freedom the world has never yet known.”
He turned his luminous gaze on to the upturned face of the young
Prince, who seemed to have hushed his very breath to listen.
“Your way will not be easy; there will be dangers,
disappointments, sneers, oppositions, failures. You must taste
humiliation, you must endure sickness, you must have great
patience and great courage. When you long for peace you will be
driven into the combat. Very few will understand; there will be
railing, calumny—factions to be met and silenced. I see ahead down
the years, and I see this: struggles, bitterness, despair—but in your
heart you will know that you are the elect of God, and that you fight
His battles.”
There was a tense silence. Slowly, in a low voice, at last the Prince
answered—
“I will try to be worthy.”
He dropped his face into his hands and hid it against the coverlet.
M. Triglandt lightly stroked the long brown locks.
“And I see something of your reward too. I see this land a refuge
for God’s people, I see them bless your name. In sickness and
defeat it shall comfort you that you have so protected the Reformed
religion that she shall never be in danger again; you will have
opened the floodgates of liberty, and no one shall close them more.”
He gasped, struggling with his breath; then his clear, inspired
voice went on—
“Maybe you will die before this reward comes, maybe you will
never see the result of your labours. Men may never give you the
honour; but yours will be the glory if now you dare what no other
man does dare—or will!”
William looked up; his face was changed, almost distorted.
“I will do it. I am often ill, but I can put a good face on it—I shall
live long enough … to do my task.”
“People will misunderstand—you must not care—to this one thing
be true. You must forego pleasure, ease, popularity, friends.”
“I will do it,” repeated the Prince in a choking voice. “Speak to me
—bless me—there is no other who understands.… Nevermore shall I
speak to any as now I speak to you … to—you—who leave me.”
“What more can I say? Your own soul will guide you. Be tolerant,
be just, be true to your word, be patient and be brave.”
“I will not falter—I will not despair—even though I go forth alone
and never reach the goal.” The Prince’s voice failed him; he covered
his face and his shoulders heaved.
M. Triglandt lay back on the white, fragrant pillows.
“I can speak no more,” he said faintly. “You know the way.”
William spoke without raising his head—
“Stay with me a little—for I love you.”
“William.”
“Ah, Heaven pity me, I am so lonely!”
“God—God has set you apart.”
The Prince looked up; the hazel eyes were full of tears.
 “I will be resolute—I will be calm—only if you could stay.”
“I am dying; but you will not forget me nor how—I spoke.”
The tears ran down the young man’s cheeks; he trembled
violently.
“I love you—no one else—I think. If you could stay—and see—
how I obey you.”
The pastor smiled faintly.
“I am very happy.”
William caught his hands.
“Mynheer Triglandt,” he cried in a tone of terror, “I am afraid! Can
I do it? They all look to me—to save them. M. de Witt passes on to
me his hopeless task—to save them!”
He cowered against the bed.
“I feel as if my soul fainted—but I will not fail them. Ah, heart,
heart!”
“God will inspire you,” gasped the pastor. “He—alone.”
“I trust in Him; if He should try me with bitternesses I will try to
submit—but sometimes——Yesterday I saw an old man on the Rhine
—struggling with a barge—and as it advanced a little it was swept
back; and he strove again—and once more gained an inch—and was
driven back; and as I watched he made a little desperate headway.
My affairs are even as that poor man’s—I must strive and strive, and
be content if with much labour I gain a little.”
He staggered to his feet and bent low over the pillow.
“What can I do for you?” he whispered. He was sobbing bitterly.
“Nothing—do not weep.”
The old man caught his coat and arm.
“I am content,” he said. “I dreamt of this—when M. de Witt
divided us because I taught you who you were.”
 There fell a soft, meaning silence. There could be heard the faint
peal of the joy-bells coming through the summer dark.…
William supported the old man in a trembling embrace.
M. Triglandt caught one of the loose curls that hung over the
Prince’s shoulder and pressed it to his lips … then his hands clasped
tightly on his breast.
He nodded like one falling asleep.
Then suddenly his eyes opened wide.
“Say—‘God bless you,’” sobbed the Prince desperately.
“God bless you—God be with you always.”
He gathered sudden energy; he smiled and raised his right hand.
“Thou art King, O God; send help unto Jacob. Through Thee will
we overthrow our enemies, and in Thy name will we tread them
under that rise up against us; for we will not trust in our bow.”
The dying man’s voice swelled with exaltation—
“It is not our sword that shall help us; but it is Thou who savest us
from our enemies and puttest them to confusion that hate us.…”
He fell into soft, yet triumphant accents—
“We will make our boast of … God … all day long … and will …
praise Thy name … for ever.”
His hand sank.
“William … my child.…”
M. Triglandt closed his eyes … his breath was almost stilled.
Outside the joy-bells rang, and the Stadtholder cast himself across
the homely bed in a passionate agony of bitter tears.
“God—be merciful—to me—a sinner—and alone!”
 CHAPTER VIII
THE STADTHOLDER

A heavy mist of sun-filled vapour lay over the camp at

Bodegraven.
The vivid green meadows lay flat to the dun-coloured sky. A white
cottage with painted shutters, a vine-covered porch, and a garden
full of sweet-peas and roses, poppies and herbs, stood by a clump of
alders amid the tents and pickets.
Above it floated the Orange flag. In one of its small rooms the
young Stadtholder sat, his elbow on the table, his brow in his hand.
M. de Zuylestein and William Bentinck stood by the open window;
and Florent Van Mander was speaking with a force and an energy to
which he had never before been roused.
“If Your Highness would consider.”
His Highness would consider nothing. Cornelius Triglandt had died
in his arms at dawn that day, and already time was closing over the
event—but not over the pain.
Van Mander addressed himself to the two gentlemen in the
window embrasure.
“I swear to you these overtures were made to me in Zeyst. Will
you take no heed of them?”
M. de Zuylestein frowned.
“What you say amounts to this—that some agents of King Louis
have broached to you a scheme for the assassination of His
Highness.”
Van Mander answered firmly—
“I journeyed straight to the Hague to inform the Prince—I have
had till now no opportunity of speaking.”
 Inwardly he was referring to the past night. He could have cried
out the great pride and joy he felt in serving a Prince who had
revealed himself at the death-bed of Cornelius Triglandt, a master
whom he knew at last.
He longed to prove his devotion, to die for the Prince and the
country. He burned with shame when he recalled that he had once
tampered with France.
“Madame Lavalette is at the bottom of it.…”
He continued his narration.
“And one Hyacinthe St. Croix.… She hath a spite against His
Highness.… M. de Louvois thinks there could be no greater disaster
to the country than the loss of the Prince.… They approached me—”
he paused, “because I had formerly dealings with St. Croix,” he
added with an effort.
The Stadtholder raised swollen eyes.
“Let it be,” he said wearily.
M. Bentinck interrupted—
“Sir, you must take some notice of this plot.”
“It is beneath me to consider my own safety,” said William in the
same tone.
Van Mander approached the table earnestly.
“This is deep—there is one Michael Tichelaer in it—a Dutch
barber; a higher name than his——”
“I will not hear it,” replied the Prince with impatience.
“This is mere bravado,” exclaimed M. de Zuylestein.
“We have other things to occupy us,” replied the Prince.
“Sir,” declared Van Mander ardently, “I must insist that you listen
to me.… Once more the French will send you terms … should you
again refuse them—they have resolved to compass your death.”
 The Stadtholder was still indifferent.
“These plots are hatched against every man of position.”
“There is danger at home as well as in the French camp,” insisted
Florent. “A great name was mentioned.”
“Whose?” asked M. Bentinck eagerly.
“That of M. Cornelius de Witt.”
The Prince looked up sharply, roused at length by this.
“Impossible!” he exclaimed.
“I spoke with the fellow he had confided in,” Van Mander
answered; “this Michael Tichelaer, who saw him soon after Your
Highness was proclaimed in Dordt.… He was very precise: M. de Witt
railed against Your Highness, said you would marry a foreign
Princess and make yourself absolute in the United Provinces—and to
prevent this and to bring the republicans back to power he desired
this Tichelaer to go to the camp and kill Your Highness——”
The Stadtholder interrupted.
“I believe none of it.”
M. Bentinck, however, was not so sure.
“At least investigate the story.”
But all further speech was arrested by the announcement of the
expected envoys from the Allies.
M. de Zuylestein drew Van Mander aside.
“I will see you afterwards; your tale requires looking into—
particularly as regards M. de Witt. The Prince is too rash.”
It was Sir Gabriel Sylvius who brought the final answer from King
Louis; the terms that William III. hoped, through the intervening
influence of the English, might prove more reasonable.
Sir Gabriel was accompanied by Mr. Jermyn and an Englishman
very different from either Buckingham or Arlington, Sir Edward
Seymour, of the proudest name in the three kingdoms.
The young Stadtholder received them with perfect composure; all
trace of weariness left his manner.
“Your Highness,” began Sir Gabriel, “I bring to you the final
conditions of peace of the Kings of France and England.”
He handed the Prince a letter.
“I would advise Your Highness not to look at it till you have dined
—I fear it will not please you.”
William swept a glance over the assembled faces, then tore open
the envelope.
It contained a letter from the two English Ministers, and a copy of
a treaty recently drawn up at Heeswyck between Charles and Louis,
in which the two monarchs agreed to press their demands in concert
and not to enter into any separate treaty with the Republic, whom
they thus hoped to reduce to extremity.
Turning from this document, which destroyed all his hopes of
detaching Charles from the French alliance, William cast his eyes
over the Articles of Peace.
They stood the same as before, save that to the haughty demands
of France were added the immoderate claims of England.
A passionate colour rushed into the young Stadtholder’s thin
cheek.
He gave a stifled exclamation, and for a second it seemed as if he
would tear the papers across and fling them in the face of the
envoys who had brought them.
But he controlled himself, and made a movement as if he would
have thrust them into the breast of his coat, forgetting he wore a
cuirass.
Recollecting himself he flung the documents down on the table.
 “Your Highness,”—Sir Edward addressed him, coming forward
—“we are directed to ask for your answer, and the answer of the
States, within ten days.”
William looked at him, and saw a high-bred gentleman, handsome
and proud, with languid brown eyes; and dressed richly in a murrey-
coloured travelling costume.
“You are Sir Edward Seymour?” queried the Stadtholder.
The Englishman bowed.
“Why are you sent here, Sir Edward?” demanded William. “Sir
Gabriel could have brought the dispatch alone.”
The bluntness of this slightly discomposed Sir Edward’s stateliness.
He made a little motion with his riding-whip towards the Dutch
nobles—
“These are in Your Highness’ confidence?”
“Oh, say what you have to say, Sir Edward,” cried the Prince
impatiently.
Seymour was considering him curiously.
“My lord Buckingham made an offer to Your Highness——”
“Which I refused.”
“—in the hope of detaching the English from the French alliance,”
added Sir Edward. “You now see, Sir, that such a hope is useless.”
“Well?”
“It is my embassage to repeat that offer to Your Highness. To
show the consideration in which their Majesties hold you—they again
offer you the sovereignty of Holland—in exchange for the towns not
yet in King Louis’ possession.”
William III. looked at him straightly.
“I thank you and your master for these proposals,” he said coldly,
“but they are renewed twenty-four hours too late.… Yesterday I took
an oath of fidelity to the States as Stadtholder.… You have my
answer.”
Sir Edward bowed.
“I may remind Your Highness that you stand in a desperate—
almost a hopeless—position.”
The Prince answered proudly—
“I am not by nature timorous, Sir Edward, and do not fear to have
to fight for liberty.”
“Have you well considered——”
William interrupted—
“Sir, I would rather spend the rest of my life hunting on one of my
German estates than sell my country for any price that could be
offered.”
Sir Edward was not as Buckingham, nor even as Arlington; he
bowed again, this time with an air of respect.
Every one was silent, holding himself with reserve.
The slanting ray of sun that fell through the open lattice window,
laden with the scent of the roses and sweet-peas, seemed
incongruous with this contained and grave assembly.
The Prince turned about as if considering something. They felt
that he was going to speak, and waited for it. Seymour regarded him
keenly, with the air of a man who knows and values what he sees.
The Stadtholder paused by the table, and rested his beautiful
hand upon the papers his messenger had brought.
“You shall have an answer in less than ten days,” he said. “I will
take these terms myself to the Assembly——”
He paused, and drew himself erect with something of an effort;
his reddened eyes flashed with an intense expression of dauntless
defiance.
 He spoke again, and with irresistible force—
“The King of France considers it a fine amusement to ruin an
unoffending country—he thinks it will be easy to crush a petty
Prince. You, my lords, doubtless pity me my vain resistance—but you
know not what you smile at. The French insult us with outrageous
terms. Not Cæsar to the Gauls, nor Alexander to the Persians was
more haughty; but we are not as Darius—France will repent this
insolence. We will, from this little spark, blow up a war shall see
Europe in arms and shake the Continent! No peace, they say; but
they shall come to sue for it, be it thirty years or fifty years hence!
There is a force can hold back Condé’s blood-flushed cavalry and
keep in check the battalions Turenne leads; there is a strength can
pit itself against these servitors of the Pope and match itself against
the pride of France; and from this conquered land it springs. Long
and bloody the struggle may be that forces the aggressor back
across his frontier; but it will break his pride, and he shall come to
wish that he had taken our honourable terms—for, by my soul! as I
am Captain of my country’s hopes, and of their faith the Protector, I
shall not sheathe the sword until this presuming arrogance is tamed
and Europe breathes in liberty!
“We are not vanquished yet! Though they reckon we are beneath
their heel, yet we will show them otherwise. We are no nation of
weaklings, nor am I a puppet ruler.
“I am the guardian of this Republic, and I will be worthy of the
charge—so help me God!
“My lords, there is no more to say.”
A long minute’s stillness followed. Then Sir Edward Seymour
spoke.
“I do not trespass on my duty if I say that I admire the temper
that Your Highness shows; I should be pleased to be as fortunate as
King Louis, but better pleased to be as courageous as Your
Highness.”
 “Thank you, my lord,” answered William. “I hope that we may
meet again under fairer conditions.”
He held out his hand and Sir Edward kissed it, bowed, very
courtly, and withdrew, followed by M. St. Jermyn, his suite, and the
Dutch nobles who formed his escort.
The Stadtholder, coughing, turned to the mantelpiece and put his
hand over his aching eyes.
“Bentinck, I must return to the Hague—at once.”
“With these dispatches?”
“Yes—the States must assemble——”
M. Zuylestein stepped forward—
“This assassination plot——”
“Can I think of that—now?”
“M. Cornelius de Witt is involved——”
“I do not believe it.” This impatiently, with a frown.
Florent Van Mander came from the window embrasure and went
on one knee on the red-tiled floor.
William looked at him and hesitated to speak harshly.
This young man seemed to him a link with the past night; he had
been witness of his tears.…
William bit his under-lip and listened.
Florent told his story hurriedly but clearly. Madame Lavalette,
under the guise of a traveller from Brussels, accompanied by St.
Croix and Michael Tichelaer as her servants, was to take up her
quarters in some village near the Prince’s camp.…
Florent broke off.
He looked at M. Zuylestein.
William was not attending.
 “The matter is serious!” cried Van Mander desperately.
The Stadtholder did not seem to know that the narrative had
ceased.
“Highness,” said M. Bentinck.
William was looking at the dispatches on the table.
“I will hear it presently,” he said.
“Presently may be too late——”
Florent was again interrupted.
A messenger from the Hague with a letter from M. de Witt.
The Prince flushed at sight of the writing, and was breaking the
seal when an officer entered to say that a private messenger from
King Charles desired a secret audience of the Prince.
William cast down the letter and listened eagerly.
It had always been his passionate hope to detach his uncle from
the King of France.
“Who was it?”
“A Frenchman, who had his passport and credentials and had
shown them to Count Struym.”
The Stadtholder would see him—at once. He turned all save
Bentinck from the room, he knew that Charles liked to act under a
mask of secrecy.
“Though you may,” smiled William, “listen at the window.”
He was all animation, hope, and eagerness. If Charles should
come to secret terms the Republic was saved.
Florent, very pale, still urged his interrupted tale—
“This may be the very man!”
“Afterwards,” said William,—“afterwards!”
 The messenger was introduced; a Frenchman of commonplace
exterior, his demeanour very humble. The Stadtholder, alone with
him save for M. Bentinck, spoke with impetuous frankness.
“What does my uncle want of me? I will do anything consistent
with my vows to the Republic.”
Arlington had sent an extraordinary proposal. Lord Halifax was in
the King’s confidence, he said, and was now in Holland.… Would the
Prince meet him, unknown to the French—secretly?
William gave an immediate consent, but Bentinck interrupted.
“You are dangerously rash, Highness; this man’s tale is strange,
and his errand still stranger for a Frenchman to have come upon. Sir
Edward Seymour gave you no hint of this.”
But the Prince was dazzled by the bait.
“I can refuse no chance of coming to an agreement with King
Charles.”
He turned to the messenger, but before his first word the door
was opened and Florent Van Mander entered, his hand on his sword
and his face resolute.
“Sir, that man is Hyacinthe St. Croix—a tool of M. de Pomponne—a
spy of M. de Louvois—an assassin!”
St. Croix saw himself betrayed by a man whom he had been very
sure of; his face lowered with the rage of it, but he had his answer.
“Does Your Highness allow your private business to be thus
interrupted?”
The Stadtholder looked from one to another. M. Bentinck came
nearer to him.
“This is the plot of which I warned Your Highness—the attempt to
get you into the power of your enemies—to compass your death!”
cried Florent hotly.
St. Croix affected to sneer.
 “I do not know the man—will Your Highness listen to these
children’s tales——?”
“Do not know me?—I have some letters of yours.”
William marked St. Croix’ expression.
“By your leave, Monsieur,” he said, “I will look into this.”
The Frenchman saw the game was up; he seized his last, flying
chance.…
Quick his little, keen dagger was out, and he made a swift
movement to thrust it above the armlet of the Prince’s cuirass;
there, where, by a little unguarded space, the heart might be
reached.
Florent threw himself upon him.…
With a passionate sound of rage against the stolid Hollander who
had roused at last, St. Croix turned. There was a second’s struggle;
the sunlight winked along the steel.…
Florent pitched over backwards with closed eyes and an open
mouth; St. Croix tore the door wide and fled.
The thing had not taken two minutes—it was less than ten since
St. Croix had entered the room.
The Prince and William Bentinck caught Van Mander.
“He was right!” cried William fiercely; “the man was one of
Louvois’ spies.”
“Murderers,” said M. Bentinck; “he has stabbed the fellow.”
The handle of the dagger, silver and ivory, stuck out horribly from
the breast of Florent Van Mander, who gasped thickly and beat his
heels on the tiles.
“Ah, poor fool,” muttered William, supporting him, “he was saving
me. After the Frenchman, Bentinck!”
Florent clutched at the dagger-hilt with convulsive fingers.
 “Take care—M. de Witt—Tichelaer——” He struggled; but the
Prince, for all his frail look, supported him easily enough.
“I am sorry for this,” he said. “I am sorry.”
Florent Van Mander, selfish place-seeker, careless of his country,
and in the pay of France once, has died for a sentiment of honour in
the Stadtholder’s arms, even as last night he had seen Cornelius
Triglandt die.…
Can William of Orange so inspire one man?—then he may so
inspire a whole nation with the last desperate courage. If Florent
Van Mander will die for him there will be others also reckless of their
lives if they may serve Nassau by laying them down.…
It is calling to horse now, riding to and fro, excitement rising up,
reined in.… The last defiance has been flung to France!… The States
must refuse these terms.…
The Stadtholder thrusts the dispatches and the letter from M. de
Witt, unopened, into the pocket of his mantle, mounts his grey horse
and spurs off for the Hague.
The last rays of the sun that peep over the tiger-lilies and sweet-
peas at the dead face of Florent Van Mander shine also in the
harness of the Stadtholder and his suite, as they ride along the
smooth road, between the canals, the locks where the water-lilies
rest, the deep, thick-grown meadows where the cattle graze, the
little homes with the coloured shutters, the thatched windmills, the
poplars and alders, the low fields where the storks sit, through the
silent twilight towards the Hague.

CHAPTER IX
IN THE ASSEMBLY
 In the old Palace of the Princes of Orange, that had been the
dwelling of the Counts of Holland when the Hague was merely their
hunting estate, and now for twenty years the meeting-place for the
Government of John de Witt, Their High Mightinesses, the States,
were assembled.
The sunshine filled the great chamber, showing the tapestry on
the walls, the marble chimney-pieces, the painted ceiling, in the full
dazzle of their gorgeous colours.
In the centre, within a space enclosed by a balustrade, sat the
nobles and the Deputies of eighteen towns.
At the end of the table at which they sat stood the Grand
Pensionary’s chair—empty during a debate for the first time in
twenty years.
Behind this chair were the benches, filled by the councillor
deputies; next them a table belonging to the Deputies of Haarlem,
Delft, Leyden, and Brill.
Opposite were the tables belonging to Amsterdam, Rotterdam,
Gouda, Gorcum, Schiedam, and Schoonhoven.
Either side the western fireplace sat the secretaries of the towns,
and directly facing them was the raised velvet arm-chair of the
Stadtholder.
An air of expectancy and gloom lay over the whole Assembly. The
white, anxious faces of the States were in sharp contrast to the
peaceful scene visible through the fine tall windows; the sparkling
water of the Vyver, the swans sailing round their green islands, the
stately avenues of chestnuts and elms beyond.
Every one in the chamber was looking at the Stadtholder.
He stood on the step before his chair and held the dispatches
brought him yesterday by Sir Gabriel Sylvius. He wore the habit he
had travelled in: cuirass, high boots, dark velvet, and a purple scarf.
 He wore his beaver with the long black plume; across his chair
were thrown mantle and gloves.
His bright glance swept the silent, agitated faces turned towards
him. He opened the dispatches and read the terms of France:—
“Possession of all the towns of the Republic in
Brabant and Flanders—the frontiers of the United
Provinces to be withdrawn as far as the river Leek—
this leaving Guelders, Beteuse, and Loevenstein in the
hands of France.
“Overyssel to be given to the Bishop of Munster.
Rynberg to be ceded to the Elector of Cologne. Delfyzl
and its dependencies to be ceded to the King of
England.
“Crevecœur, Hertogenbosch, and Maestricht to be
handed over to the French.
“The Catholic religion to be freely allowed in the
States.
“The revocation of all edicts hurtful to French
commerce.
“The Dutch East and West India companies to
submit to the French companies; a separate treaty on
this matter to be concluded in three months.
“Free passage and passport for any subject of
France.
“An indemnity of war, the tribute of 12,000,000
florins.
“A formal embassy to be sent every year to France,
to present the King with a gold medal as token of
homage; the motto on it to be a humble thanksgiving
for His Majesty’s mercy in leaving the United Provinces
some liberty.”
 William paused, and again looked round the States.
“These are the final terms of France,” he said. “You have heard
them before, my lords—they are not softened nor abated, and to
them now are added these, which His Majesty of France demands
for the King of England.”
Consternation and anguish showed in every face.
The senators of Rotterdam were weeping. Some sat rigid, with
clasped hands and fixed eyes; others drooped with hanging heads,
bowed by the bitterness of this humiliation.
No one spoke.
The Prince read from the next page—
“This, demanded on behalf of the King of England,
in consideration of the treaty of Heeswyck, whereby
the King of France is resolved to accept no peace if the
King of England is not satisfied with his claims.
“First the salute of the flag, even from an entire
Dutch fleet to a single British vessel.
“Satisfaction in Surinam.
“The extradition of political refugees.
“1,000,000 pounds for the expenses of the war,
400,000 in the following October, the remainder in six
annual instalments of 100,000.
“A rent of 100,000 pounds for the herring fishery.
“The sovereignty of the remaining portion of the
United Provinces for the Prince of Orange, as reigning
and hereditary King.
“A new treaty of commerce, relative to the Indies.
“The surrender of Sluys, Walcheren, Cadzant, Goree,
and Voorne as guarantee.”
 The Stadtholder raised his head and once more surveyed the
Assembly.
“My name is mentioned here—not my friends but my enemies
desire for me this infamous honour.… France and England have had
my answer—what do you say, my lords?”
He sat down, still looking at them, grave, reserved, and stern.
The States remained dumb and helpless; they dare not decide.
The utter bitterness and hopelessness of their situation robbed them
of their courage and their resolution. They felt themselves already
slaves; they saw their country already a province of France. They
were mute, and in most eyes the tears glittered.
Gaspard Fagel rose. He pressed for the opinion of His Highness.…
The States flung themselves on the wisdom and valour of His
Highness … the people had elected him to be their Captain and
guide.
“Most noble lords,” answered the Stadtholder, “your decision is
required.”
They joined in persuading him to give his advice; they turned to
him desperately as the one spark of hope in all the black prospect.
He rose again.
The sun was streaming through the window at his side, and made
a star in his cuirass; the little silver-gilt chains round his ankles, that
held his spurs over the soft riding-boots, gave a pleasant clink as he
moved.
He held his left hand on the great basket-work hilt of his sword,
and his right on the scarf across his breast.
“Your Noble Mightinesses ask for my advice. I will say to you what
I know you all have in your hearts.
“There is but one answer to these terms—the coldest, most
contemptuous refusal.
 “Who but an abject wretch would subscribe to such conditions
while he had breath in his body?
“By Heaven! I would rather be torn to pieces than consent to any
such humiliation and shame.”
A stir ran through the Assembly.
“I do not despair,” continued the Stadtholder passionately.
“Though we seem reduced to desperate extremity, yet is our case
not hopeless if we make our answer to France sword in hand.… To
die honourably is better than a miserable safety.… It is not possible
for us to be the slaves of France. My lords, you will reject these
shameful conditions.”
They sat mute. They had placed their fortunes between his hands;
he was the master of their destiny—the destiny of the United
Provinces.
Most of them were learned men of much experience who had
been long in office; all of them were older than the man they looked
to, by many years.
He and they could remember when he was a mere name in the
State, the prisoner of Their Noble Mightinesses. Some of them had
slighted, all ignored him.
Yet now this young man’s voice, calm, decisive above the tumult
and the anguish, swayed them all. They caught desperately at his
words, and trusted themselves to the power of his dominant will.
For he alone stood resolute and undaunted before such dire straits
as could cause the guardians of the State to weep aloud.
He spoke again. If he had been schooled to silence all his life he
did not lack expression now, nor a natural eloquence and passionate
force.
Some of the fire that animated him crept into his listeners’ hearts;
they could not listen to him and still despair.
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