of an arrangement, celebrated a sort of lovefeast in which congratulations were exchanged over copious libations and mutual pledges were given of the introduction of an era of good fellowship and general contentment. But it was a case of "Peace, peace, when there is no peace."
The diplomats had devised cunningly, but they had not reckoned with the one element which was all important— human nature. On each side the Treaty was accepted with reservations, which doomed it to failure at the outset. The Dutch, represented by the implacable Coen, kept in the back of their mind their old resolve to monopolize the trade; the English entered upon the new era with all their ancient determination to carve out for themselves an independent position in the Eastern seas. Nothing, in fact, had really been altered but in the world of make-believe which diplomacy has marked out as her special province.
Almost before the smoke of the salutes which greeted the signing of the Treaty had died away dissensions had arisen between the English and the Dutch representatives at Batavia over the interpretation of the clauses of the Treaty. There were no doubt faults on both sides. The Dutch were exacting; the English were laggard in meeting their responsibilities; each sought to drive to the fullest limit the conditions which seemed in its favour without reference to the balancing requirements of the instrument. Coen's influence, too, counted for much in the darkening of counsel. His spirit is well illustrated in the instructions he left to General Carpentier, his successor, when he handed over the reins of government in 1623. He told Carpentier to "maintain carefully the sovereignty and highest jurisdiction" of the Dutch in the
