CHAPTER XVII.

Secret Treaty between Queen and Parma--Excitement and Alarm in the

States--Religious Persecution in England--Queen's Sincerity toward

Spain--Language and Letters of Parma--Negotiations of De Loo--

English Commissioners appointed--Parma's affectionate Letter to the

Queen--Philip at his Writing-Table--His Plots with Parma against

England--Parma's secret Letters to the King--Philip's Letters to

Parma Wonderful Duplicity of Philip--His sanguine Views as to

England--He is reluctant to hear of the Obstacles--and imagines

Parma in England--But Alexander's Difficulties are great--He

denounces Philip's wild Schemes--Walsingham aware of the Spanish

Plot--which the States well understand--Leicester's great

Unpopularity--The Queen warned against Treating--Leicester's Schemes

against Barneveld--Leicestrian Conspiracy at Leyden--The Plot to

seize the City discovered--Three Ringleaders sentenced to Death--

Civil War in France--Victory gained by Navarre, and one by Guise--

Queen recalls Leicester--Who retires on ill Terms with the States--

Queen warned as to Spanish Designs--Result's of Leicester's

Administration.

The course of Elizabeth towards the Provinces, in the matter of the

peace, was certainly not ingenuous, but it was not absolutely deceitful.

She concealed and denied the negotiations, when the Netherland statesmen

were perfectly aware of their existence, if not of their tenour; but she

was not prepared, as they suspected, to sacrifice their liberties and

their religion, as the price of her own reconciliation with Spain. Her

attitude towards the States was imperious, over-bearing, and abusive. She

had allowed the Earl of Leicester to return, she said, because of her

love for the poor and oppressed people, but in many of her official and

in all her private communications, she denounced the men who governed

that people as ungrateful wretches and impudent liars!

These were the corrosives and vinegar which she thought suitable for the

case; and the Earl was never weary in depicting the same statesmen as

seditious, pestilent, self-seeking, mischief-making traitors. These

secret, informal negotiations, had been carried on during most of the

year 1587. It was the "comptroller's peace;", as Walsingham

contemptuously designated the attempted treaty; for it will be

recollected that Sir James Croft, a personage of very mediocre abilities,

had always been more busy than any other English politician in these

transactions. He acted; however, on the inspiration of Burghley, who drew

his own from the fountainhead.

But it was in vain for the Queen to affect concealment. The States knew

everything which was passing, before Leicester knew. His own secret

instructions reached the Netherlands before he did. His secretary,

Junius, was thrown into prison, and his master's letter taken from him,

before there had been any time to act upon its treacherous suggestions.

When the Earl wrote letters with, his own hand to his sovereign, of so

secret a nature that he did not even retain a single copy for himself,

for fear of discovery, he found, to his infinite disgust, that the States

were at once provided with an authentic transcript of every line that he

had written. It was therefore useless, almost puerile, to deny facts

which were quite as much within the knowledge of the Netherlanders as of

himself. The worst consequence of the concealment was, that a deeper

treachery was thought possible than actually existed. "The fellow they

call Barneveld," as Leicester was in the habit of designating one of the

first statesmen in Europe, was perhaps justified, knowing what he did, in

suspecting more. Being furnished with a list of commissioners, already

secretly agreed upon between the English and Spanish governments, to

treat for peace, while at the same time the Earl was beating his breast,

and flatly denying that there was any intention of treating with Parma at

all, it was not unnatural that he should imagine a still wider and deeper

scheme than really existed, against the best interests of his country. He

may have expressed, in private conversation, some suspicions of this

nature, but there is direct evidence that he never stated in public

anything which was not afterwards proved to be matter of fact, or of

legitimate inference from the secret document which had come into his

hands. The Queen exhausted herself in opprobious language against those

who dared to impute to her a design to obtain possession of the cities

and strong places of the Netherlands, in order to secure a position in

which to compel the Provinces into obedience to her policy. She urged,

with much logic, that as she had refused the sovereignty of the whole

country when offered to her, she was not likely to form surreptitious

schemes to make herself mistress of a portion of it. On the other hand,

it was very obvious, that to accept the sovereignty of Philip's

rebellious Provinces, was to declare war upon Philip; whereas, had she

been pacifically inclined towards that sovereign, and treacherously

disposed towards the Netherlands, it would be a decided advantage to her

to have those strong places in her power. But the suspicions as to her

good faith were exaggerated. As to the intentions of Leicester, the

States were justified in their almost unlimited distrust. It is very

certain that both in 1586, and again, at this very moment, when Elizabeth

was most vehement in denouncing such aspersions on her government, he had

unequivocally declared to her his intention of getting possession, if

possible, of several cities, and of the whole Island of Walcheren, which,

together with the cautionary towns already in his power, would enable the

Queen to make good terms for herself with Spain, "if the worst came to

the worst." It will also soon be shown that he did his best to carry

these schemes into execution. There is no evidence, however, and no

probability, that he had received the royal commands to perpetrate such a

crime.

The States believed also, that in those secret negotiations with Parma

the Queen was disposed to sacrifice the religious interests of the

Netherlands. In this they were mistaken. But they had reason for their

mistake, because the negotiator De Loo, had expressly said, that, in her

overtures to Farnese, she had abandoned that point altogether. If this

had been so, it would have simply been a consent on the part of

Elizabeth, that the Catholic religion and the inquisition should be

re-established in the Provinces, to the exclusion of every other form of

worship or polity. In truth, however, the position taken by her Majesty

on the subject was as fair as could be reasonably expected. Certainly she

was no advocate for religious liberty. She chose that her own subjects

should be Protestants, because she had chosen to be a Protestant herself,

and because it was an incident of her supremacy, to dictate uniformity of

creed to all beneath her sceptre. No more than her father, who sent to

the stake or gallows heretics to transubstantiation as well as believers

in the Pope, had Elizabeth the faintest idea of religious freedom.

Heretics to the English Church were persecuted, fined, imprisoned,

mutilated, and murdered, by sword, rope, and fire. In some respects, the

practice towards those who dissented from Elizabeth was more immoral and

illogical, even if less cruel, than that to which those were subjected

who rebelled against Sixtus. The Act of Uniformity required Papists to

assist at the Protestant worship, but wealthy Papists could obtain

immunity by an enormous fine. The Roman excuse to destroy bodies in order

to save souls, could scarcely be alleged by a Church which might be

bribed into connivance at heresy, and which derived a revenue from the

very nonconformity for which humbler victims were sent to the gallows. It

would, however, be unjust in the extreme to overlook the enormous

difference in the amount of persecution, exercised respectively by the

Protestant and the Roman Church. It is probable that not many more than

two hundred Catholics were executed as such, in Elizabeth's reign, and

this was ten score too many. But what was this against eight hundred

heretics burned, hanged, and drowned, in one Easter week by Alva, against

the eighteen thousand two hundred went to stake and scaffold, as he

boasted during his administration, against the vast numbers of

Protestants, whether they be counted by tens or by hundreds of thousands,

who perished by the edicts of Charles V., in the Netherlands, or in the

single Saint Bartholomew Massacre in France? Moreover, it should never be

forgotten--from undue anxiety for impartiality--that most of the

Catholics who were executed in England, suffered as conspirators rather

than as heretics. No foreign potentate, claiming to be vicegerent of

Christ, had denounced Philip as a bastard and, usurper, or had, by means

of a blasphemous fiction, which then was a terrible reality, severed the

bonds of allegiance by which his subjects were held, cut him off from all

communion with his fellow-creatures, and promised temporal rewards and a

crown of glory in heaven to those who should succeed in depriving him of

throne and life. Yet this was the position of Elizabeth. It was war to

the knife between her and Rome, declared by Rome itself; nor was there

any doubt whatever that the Seminary Priests--seedlings transplanted from

foreign nurseries, which were as watered gardens for the growth of

treason--were a perpetually organized band of conspirators and assassins,

with whom it was hardly an act of excessive barbarity to deal in somewhat

summary fashion. Doubtless it would have been a more lofty policy, and a

far more intelligent one, to extend towards the Catholics of England, who

as a body were loyal to their country, an ample toleration. But it could

scarcely be expected that Elizabeth Tudor, as imperious and absolute by

temperament as her father had ever been, would be capable of embodying

that great principle.

When, in the preliminaries to the negotiations of 1587, therefore, it was

urged on the part of Spain, that the Queen was demanding a concession of

religious liberty from Philip to the Netherlanders which she refused to

English heretics, and that he only claimed the same right of dictating a

creed to his subjects which she exercised in regard to her own, Lord

Burghley replied that the statement was correct. The Queen permitted--it

was true--no man to profess any religion but the one which she professed.

At the same time it was declared to be unjust, that those persons in the

Netherlands who had been for years in the habit of practising Protestant

rites, should be suddenly compelled, without instruction, to abandon that

form of worship. It was well known that many would rather die than submit

to such oppression, and it was affirmed that the exercise of this cruelty

would be resisted by her to the uttermost. There was no hint of the

propriety--on any logical basis--of leaving the question of creed as a

matter between man and his Maker, with which any dictation on the part of

crown or state was an act of odious tyranny. There was not even a

suggestion that the Protestant doctrines were true, and the Catholic

doctrines false. The matter was merely taken up on the 'uti possidetis'

principle, that they who had acquired the fact of Protestant worship had

a right to retain it, and could not justly be deprived of it, except by

instruction and persuasion. It was also affirmed that it was not the

English practice to inquire into men's consciences. It would have been

difficult, however, to make that very clear to Philip's comprehension,

because, if men, women, and children, were scourged with rods, imprisoned

and hanged, if they refused to conform publicly to a ceremony at which

their consciences revolted-unless they had money enough to purchase

non-conformity--it seemed to be the practice to inquire very effectively

into their consciences.

But if there was a certain degree of disingenuousness on the part of

Elizabeth towards the States, her attitude towards Parma was one of

perfect sincerity. A perusal of the secret correspondence leaves no doubt

whatever on that point. She was seriously and fervently desirous of peace

with Spain. On the part of Farnese and his master, there was the most

unscrupulous mendacity, while the confiding simplicity and truthfulness

of the Queen in these negotiations was almost pathetic. Especially she

declared her trust in the loyal and upright character of Parma, in which

she was sure of never being disappointed. It is only doing justice to

Alexander to say that he was as much deceived by her frankness as she by

his falsehood. It never entered his head that a royal personage and the

trusted counsellors of a great kingdom could be telling the truth in a

secret international transaction, and he justified the industry with

which his master and himself piled fiction upon fiction, by their utter

disbelief in every word which came to them from England.

The private negotiations had been commenced, or rather had been renewed,

very early in February of this year. During the whole critical period

which preceded and followed the execution of Mary, in the course of which

the language of Elizabeth towards the States had been so shrewish, there

had been the gentlest diplomatic cooing between Farnese and herself. It

was--Dear Cousin, you know how truly I confide in your sincerity, how

anxious I am that this most desirable peace should be arranged; and it

was--Sacred Majesty, you know how much joy I feel in your desire for the

repose of the world, and for a solid peace between your Highness and the

King my master; how much I delight in concord--how incapable I am by

ambiguous words of spinning out these transactions, or of deceiving your

Majesty, and what a hatred I feel for steel, fire, and blood.'

Four or five months rolled on, during which Leicester had been wasting

time in England, Farnese wasting none before Sluys, and the States doing

their best to counteract the schemes both of their enemy and of their

ally. De Loo made a visit, in July, to the camp of the Duke of Parma, and

received the warmest assurances of his pacific dispositions. "I am much

pained," said Alexander, "with this procrastination. I am so full of

sincerity myself, that it seems to me a very strange matter, this hostile

descent by Drake upon the coasts of Spain. The result of such courses

will be, that the King will end by being exasperated, and I shall be

touched in my honour--so great is the hopes I have held out of being able

to secure a peace. I have ever been and I still am most anxious for

concord, from the affection I bear to her sacred Majesty. I have been

obliged, much against my will, to take the field again. I could wish now

that our negotiations might terminate before the arrival of my fresh

troops, namely, 9000 Spaniards and 9000 Italians, which, with Walloons,

Germans, and Lorrainers, will give me an effective total of 30,000

soldiers. Of this I give you my word as a gentleman. Go, then, Andrew de

Loo," continued the Duke, "write to her sacred Majesty, that I desire to

make peace; and to serve her faithfully; and that I shall not change my

mind, even in case of any great success, for I like to proceed rather by

the ways of love than of rigour and effusion of bleed."

"I can assure you, oh, most serene Duke," replied Andrew, "that the most

serene Queen is in the very same dispositions with yourself."

"Excellent well then," said the Duke, "we shall come to an agreement at

once, and the sooner the deputies on both sides are appointed the

better."

A feeble proposition was then made, on the part of the peace-loving

Andrew, that the hostile operations against Sluy's should be at once

terminated. But this did not seem so clear to the most serene Duke. He

had gone to great expense in that business; and he had not built bridges,

erected forts, and dug mines, only to abandon them for a few fine words,

Fine words were plenty, but they raised no sieges. Meantime these pacific

and gentle murmurings from Farnese's camp had lulled the Queen into

forgetfulness of Roger Williams and Arnold Groenevelt and their men,

fighting day and night in trench and mine during that critical midsummer.

The wily tongue of the Duke had been more effective than his batteries in

obtaining the much-coveted city. The Queen obstinately held back her men

and money, confident of effecting a treaty, whether Sluys fell or not.

Was it strange that the States should be distrustful of her intentions,

and, in their turn, become neglectful of their duty?

And thus summer wore into autumn, Sluys fell, the States and their

governor-general were at daggers-drawn, the Netherlanders were full of

distrust with regard to England, Alexander hinted doubts as to the

Queen's sincerity; the secret negotiations, though fertile in suspicions,

jealousies, delays, and such foul weeds, had produced no wholesome fruit,

and the excellent De Loo became very much depressed. At last a letter

from Burghley relieved his drooping spirits. From the most disturbed and

melancholy man in the world, he protested, he had now become merry and

quiet. He straightway went off to the Duke of Parma, with the letter in

his pocket, and translated it to him by candlelight, as he was careful to

state, as an important point in his narrative. And Farnese was fuller of

fine phrases than ever.

"There is no cause whatever," said he, in a most loving manner, "to doubt

my sincerity. Yet the Lord-Treasurer intimates that the most serene Queen

is disposed so to do. But if I had not the very best intentions, and

desires for peace, I should never have made the first overtures. If I did

not wish a pacific solution, what in the world forced me to do what I

have done? On the contrary, it is I that have reason to suspect the other

parties with their long delays, by which they have made me lose the best

part of the summer."

He then commented on the strong expressions in the English letters, as to

the continuance of her Majesty in her pious resolutions; observed that he

was thoroughly advised of the disputes between the Earl of Leicester and

the States; and added that it was very important for the time indicated

by the Queen.

"Whatever is to be done," said he, in conclusion, "let it be done

quickly;" and with that he said he would go and eat a bit of supper.

"And may I communicate Lord Burghley's letter to any one else?" asked De

Loo.

"Yes, yes, to the Seigneur de Champagny, and to my secretary Cosimo,"

answered his Highness.

So the merchant negotiator proceeded at once to the mansion of Champagny,

in company with the secretary Cosimo. There was a long conference, in

which De Loo was informed of many things which he thoroughly believed,

and faithfully transmitted to the court of Elizabeth. Alexander had done

his best, they said, to delay the arrival of his fresh troops. He had

withdrawn from the field, on various pretexts, hoping, day after day,

that the English commissioners would arrive, and that a firm and

perpetual peace would succeed to the miseries of war. But as time wore

away, and there came no commissioners, the Duke had come to the painful

conclusion that he had been trifled with. His forces would now be sent

into Holland to find something to eat; and this would ensure the total

destruction of all that territory. He had also written to command all the

officers of the coming troops to hasten their march, in order that he

might avoid incurring still deeper censure. He was much ashamed, in

truth, to have been wheedled into passing the whole fine season in

idleness. He had been sacrificing himself for her sacred Majesty, and to,

serve her best interests; and now he found himself the object of her

mirth. Those who ought to be well informed had assured him that the Queen

was only waiting to see how the King of Navarre was getting on with the

auxiliary force just, going to him from Germany, that she had no

intention whatever to make peace, and that, before long, he might expect

all these German mercenaries upon his shoulders in the Netherlands.

Nevertheless he was prepared to receive them with 40,000 good infantry, a

splendid cavalry force, and plenty of money.'

All this and more did the credulous Andrew greedily devour; and he lost

no time in communicating the important intelligence to her Majesty and

the Lord-Treasurer. He implored her, he said, upon his bare knees,

prostrate on the ground, and from the most profound and veritable centre

of his heart and with all his soul and all his strength, to believe in

the truth of the matters thus confided to him. He would pledge his

immortal soul, which was of more value to him--as he correctly

observed--than even the crown of Spain, that the King, the Duke, and his

counsellors, were most sincerely desirous of peace, and actuated by the

most loving and benevolent motives. Alexander Farnese was "the antidote

to the Duke of Alva," kindly sent by heaven, 'ut contraria contrariis

curenter,' and if the entire security of the sacred Queen were not now

obtained, together with a perfect reintegration of love between her

Majesty and the King of Spain, and with the assured tranquillity and

perpetual prosperity of the Netherlands, it would be the fault of

England; not of Spain.

And no doubt the merchant believed all that was told him, and--what was

worse--that he fully impressed his own convictions upon her Majesty and

Lord Burghley, to say nothing of the comptroller, who, poor man, had

great facility in believing anything that came from the court of the most

Catholic King: yet it is painful to reflect, that in all these

communications of Alexander and his agents, there was not one single word

of truth.--It was all false from beginning to end, as to the

countermanding of the troops,--as to the pacific intentions of the King

and Duke, and as to the proposed campaign in Friesland, in case of

rupture; and all the rest. But this will be conclusively proved a little

later.

Meantime the conference had been most amicable and satisfactory. And when

business was over, Champagny--not a whit the worse for the severe jilting

which he had so recently sustained from the widow De Bours, now Mrs.

Aristotle Patton--invited De Loo and Secretary Cosimo to supper. And the

three made a night of it, sitting up late, and draining such huge bumpers

to the health of the Queen of England, that--as the excellent Andrew

subsequently informed Lord Burghley--his head ached most bravely next

morning.

And so, amid the din of hostile preparation not only in Cadiz and Lisbon,

but in Ghent and Sluys and Antwerp, the import of which it seemed

difficult to mistake, the comedy of, negotiation was still rehearsing,

and the principal actors were already familiar with their respective

parts. There were the Earl of Derby, knight of the garter, and my Lord

Cobham; and puzzling James Croft, and other Englishmen, actually

believing that the farce was a solemn reality. There was Alexander of

Parma thoroughly aware of the contrary. There was Andrew de Loo, more

talkative, more credulous, more busy than ever, and more fully impressed

with the importance of his mission, and there was the white-bearded

Lord-Treasurer turning complicated paragraphs; shaking his head and

waving his wand across the water, as if, by such expedients, the storm

about to burst over England could, be dispersed.

The commissioners should come, if only the Duke of Parma would declare on

his word of honour, that these hostile preparations with which all

Christendom was ringing; were not intended against England; or if that

really were the case--if he would request his master to abandon all such

schemes, and if Philip in consequence would promise on the honour of a

prince, to make no hostile attempts against that country.

There would really seem an almost Arcadian simplicity in such demands,

coming from so practised a statesman as the Lord-Treasurer, and from a

woman of such brilliant intellect as Elizabeth unquestionably possessed.

But we read the history of 1587, not only by the light of subsequent

events, but by the almost microscopic revelations of sentiments and

motives, which a full perusal of the secret documents in those ancient

cabinets afford. At that moment it was not ignorance nor dulness which

was leading England towards the pitfall so artfully dug by Spain. There

was trust in the plighted word of a chivalrous soldier like Alexander

Farnese, of a most religious and anointed monarch like Philip II. English

frankness, playing cards upon the table, was no match for Italian and

Spanish legerdemain, a system according to which, to defraud the

antagonist by every kind of falsehood and trickery was the legitimate end

of diplomacy and statesmanship. It was well known that there were great

preparations in Spain, Portugal, and the obedient Netherlands, by land

and sea. But Sir Robert Sidney was persuaded that the expedition was

intended for Africa; even the Pope was completely mystified--to the

intense delight of Philip--and Burghley, enlightened by the sagacious De

Loo, was convinced, that even in case of a rupture, the whole strength of

the Spanish arms was to be exerted in reducing Friesland and Overyssel.

But Walsingham was never deceived; for he had learned from Demosthenes a

lesson with which William the Silent, in his famous Apology, had made the

world familiar, that the only citadel against a tyrant and a conqueror

was distrust.

Alexander, much grieved that doubts should still be felt as to his

sincerity, renewed the most exuberant expressions of that sentiment,

together with gentle complaints against the dilatoriness which had

proceeded from the doubt. Her Majesty had long been aware, he said, of

his anxiety to bring about a perfect reconciliation; but he had waited,

month after month, for her commissioners, and had waited in vain. His

hopes had been dashed to the ground. The affair had been indefinitely

spun out, and he could not resist the conviction that her Majesty had

changed her mind. Nevertheless, as Andrew de Loo was again proceeding to

England, the Duke seized the opportunity once more to kiss her hand,

and--although he had well nigh resolved to think no more on the

subject--to renew his declarations, that, if the much-coveted peace were

not concluded, the blame could not be imputed to him, and that he should

stand guiltless before God and the world. He had done, and was still

ready to do, all which became a Christian and a man desirous of the

public welfare and tranquillity.

When Burghley read these fine phrases, he was much impressed; and they

were pronounced at the English court to be "very princely and

Christianly." An elaborate comment too was drawn up by the comptroller on

every line of the letter. "These be very good words," said the

comptroller.

But the Queen was even more pleased with the last proof of the Duke's

sincerity, than even Burghley and Croft had been. Disregarding all the

warnings of Walsingham, she renewed her expressions of boundless

confidence in the wily Italian. "We do assure you," wrote the Lords, "and

so you shall do well to avow it to the Duke upon our honours, that her

Majesty saith she thinketh both their minds to accord upon one good and

Christian meaning, though their ministers may perchance sound upon a

discord." And she repeated her resolution to send over her commissioners,

so soon as the Duke had satisfied her as to the hostile preparations.

We have now seen the good faith of the English Queen towards the Spanish

government. We have seen her boundless trust in the sincerity of Farnese

and his master. We have heard the exuberant professions of an honest

intention to bring about a firm and lasting peace, which fell from the

lips of Farnese and of his confidential agents. It is now necessary to

glide for a moment into the secret cabinet of Philip, in order to satisfy

ourselves as to the value of all those professions. The attention of the

reader is solicited to these investigations, because the year 1587 was a

most critical period in the history of English, Dutch, and European

liberty. The coming year 1588 had been long spoken of in prophecy, as the

year of doom, perhaps of the destruction of the world, but it was in

1587, the year of expectation and preparation, that the materials were

slowly combining out of which that year's history was to be formed.

And there sat the patient letter-writer in his cabinet, busy with his

schemes. His grey head was whitening fast. He was sixty years of age. His

frame was slight, his figure stooping, his digestion very weak, his

manner more glacial and sepulchral than ever; but if there were a

hard-working man in Europe, that man was Philip II. And there he sat at

his table, scrawling his apostilles. The fine innumerable threads which

stretched across the surface of Christendom, and covered it as with a

net, all converged in that silent cheerless cell. France was kept in a

state of perpetual civil war; the Netherlands had been converted into a

shambles; Ireland was maintained in a state of chronic rebellion;

Scotland was torn with internal feuds, regularly organized and paid for

by Philip; and its young monarch--"that lying King of Scots," as

Leicester called him--was kept in a leash ready to be slipped upon

England, when his master should give the word; and England herself was

palpitating with the daily expectation of seeing a disciplined horde of

brigands let loose upon her shores; and all this misery, past, present,

and future, was almost wholly due to the exertions of that grey-haired

letter-writer at his peaceful library-table.

At the very beginning of the year the King of Denmark had made an offer

to Philip of mediation. The letter, entrusted to a young Count de

Rantzan, had been intercepted by the States--the envoy not having availed

himself, in time, of his diplomatic capacity, and having in consequence

been treated, for a moment, like a prisoner of war. The States had

immediately addressed earnest letters of protest to Queen Elizabeth,

declaring that nothing which the enemy could do in war was half so

horrible to them as the mere mention of peace. Life, honour, religion,

liberty, their all, were at stake, they said, and would go down in one

universal shipwreck, if peace should be concluded; and they implored her

Majesty to avert the proposed intercession of the Danish King. Wilkes

wrote to Walsingham denouncing that monarch and his ministers as

stipendiaries of Spain, while, on the other hand, the Duke of Parma,

after courteously thanking the King for his offer of mediation, described

him to Philip as such a dogged heretic, that no good was to be derived

from him, except by meeting his fraudulent offers with an equally

fraudulent response. There will be nothing lost, said Alexander, by

affecting to listen to his proposals, and meantime your Majesty must

proceed with the preparations against England. This was in the first week

of the year 1587.

In February, and almost on the very day when Parma was writing those

affectionate letters to Elizabeth, breathing nothing but peace, he was

carefully conning Philip's directions in regard to the all-important

business of the invasion. He was informed by his master, that one hundred

vessels, forty of them of largest size, were quite ready, together with

12,000 Spanish infantry, including 3000 of the old legion, and that there

were volunteers more than enough. Philip had also taken note, he said, of

Alexander's advice as to choosing the season when the crops in England

had just been got in, as the harvest of so fertile a country would easily

support an invading force; but he advised nevertheless that the army

should be thoroughly victualled at starting. Finding that Alexander did

not quite approve of the Irish part of the plan, he would reconsider the

point, and think more of the Isle of Wight; but perhaps still some other

place might be discovered, a descent upon which might inspire that enemy

with still greater terror and confusion. It would be difficult for him,

he said, to grant the 6000 men asked for by the Scotch malcontents,

without seriously weakening his armada; but there must be no positive

refusal, for a concerted action with the Scotch lords and their adherents

was indispensable. The secret, said the King, had been profoundly kept,

and neither in Spain nor in Rome had anything been allowed to transpire.

Alexander was warned therefore to do his best to maintain the mystery,

for the enemy was trying very hard to penetrate their actions and their

thoughts.

And certainly Alexander did his best. He replied to his master, by

transmitting copies of the letters he had been writing with his own hand

to the Queen, and of the pacific messages he had sent her through

Champagny and De Loo. She is just now somewhat confused, said he, and

those of her counsellors who desire peace, are more eager, than ever for

negotiation. She is very much afflicted with the loss of Deventer, and is

quarrelling with the French ambassador about the new conspiracy for her

assassination. The opportunity is a good one, and if she writes an answer

to my letter, said Alexander, we can keep the negotiation, alive, while,

if she does not, 'twill be a proof that she has contracted leagues with

other parties. But, in any event, the Duke fervently implored Philip not

to pause in his preparations for the great enterprise which he had

conceived in his royal breast. So urgent for the invasion was the

peace-loving general.

He alluded also to the supposition that the quarrel between her Majesty

and the French envoy was a mere fetch, and only one of the results of

Bellievre's mission. Whether that diplomatist had been sent to censure,

or in reality to approve, in the name of his master, of the Scottish

Queen's execution, Alexander would leave to be discussed by Don

Bernardino de Mendoza, the Spanish ambassador in Paris; but he was of

opinion that the anger of the Queen with France was a fiction, and her

supposed league with France and Germany against Spain a fact. Upon this

point, as it appears from Secretary Walsingham's lamentations, the astute

Farnese was mistaken.

In truth he was frequently, led into error to the English policy the same

serpentine movement and venomous purpose which characterized his own; and

we have already seen; that Elizabeth was ready, on the contrary, to

quarrel with the States, with France, with all the world, if she could

only secure the good-will of Philip.

The French-matter, indissolubly connected in that monarch's schemes, with

his designs upon England and Holland, was causing Alexander much anxiety.

He foresaw great difficulty in maintaining that, indispensable civil war

in France, and thought that a peace might, some fine day, be declared

between Henry III. and the Huguenots, when least expected. In

consequence, the Duke of Guise was becoming very importunate for Philip's

subsidies. "Mucio comes begging to me," said Parma, "with the very

greatest earnestness, and utters nothing but lamentations and cries of

misery. He asked for 25,000 of the 150,000 ducats promised him. I gave

them. Soon afterwards he writes, with just as much anxiety, for 25,000

more. These I did not give; firstly, because I had them not," (which

would seem a sufficient reason) "and secondly, because I wished to

protract matters as much as possible. He is constantly reminding me of

your Majesty's promise of 300,000 ducats, in case he comes to a rupture

with the King of France, and I always assure him that your Majesty will

keep all promises."

Philip, on his part, through the months of spring, continued to assure

his generalissimo of his steady preparations--by sea and land. He had

ordered Mendoza to pay the Scotch lords the sum demanded by them, but not

till after they had done the deed as agreed upon; and as to the 6000 men,

he felt obliged, he said, to defer that matter for the moment; and to

leave the decision upon it to the Duke. Farnese kept his sovereign

minutely informed of the negociations carried on through Champagny and De

Loo, and expressed his constant opinion that the Queen was influenced by

motives as hypocritical as his own. She was only seeking, he said, to

deceive, to defraud, to put him to sleep, by those feigned negotiations,

while, she was making her combinations with France and Germany, for the

ruin of Spain. There was no virtue to be expected from her, except she

was compelled thereto by pure necessity. The English, he said, were hated

and abhorred by the natives of Holland and Zeeland, and it behoved Philip

to seize so favourable an opportunity for urging on his great plan with

all the speed in the world. It might be that the Queen, seeing these

mighty preparations, even although not suspecting that she herself was to

be invaded, would tremble for her safety, if the Netherlands should be

crushed. But if she succeeded in deceiving Spain, and putting Philip and

Parma to sleep, she might well boast of having made fools of them all.

The negotiations for peace and the preparations for the invasion should

go simultaneously forward therefore, and the money would, in consequence,

come more sparingly to the Provinces from the English coffers, and the

disputes between England and the States would be multiplied. The Duke

also begged to be informed whether any terms could be laid down, upon

which the King really would conclude peace; in order that he might make

no mistake for want of instructions or requisite powers. The condition of

France was becoming more alarming every day, he said. In other words,

there was an ever-growing chance of peace for that distracted country.

The Queen of England was cementing a strong league between herself, the

French King, and the Huguenots; and matters were looking very serious.

The impending peace in France would never do, and Philip should prevent

it in time, by giving Mucio his money. Unless the French are entangled

and at war among themselves, it is quite clear, said Alexander, that we

can never think of carrying out our great scheme of invading England.

The King thoroughly concurred in all that was said and done by his

faithful governor and general. He had no intention of concluding a peace

on any terms whatever, and therefore could name no conditions; but he

quite approved of a continuance of the negotiations. The English, he was

convinced, were utterly false on their part, and the King of Denmark's

proposition to-mediate was part and parcel of the same general fiction.

He was quite sensible of the necessity of giving Mucio the money to

prevent a pacification in France, and would send letters of exchange on

Agostino Spinola for the 300,000 ducats. Meantime Farnese was to go on

steadily with his preparations for the invasion.

The secretary-of-state, Don Juan de Idiaquez, also wrote most earnestly

on the great subject to the Duke. "It is not to be exaggerated", he said,

"how set his Majesty is in the all-important business. If you wish to

manifest towards him the most flattering obedience on earth, and to

oblige him as much as you could wish, give him this great satisfaction

this year. Since you have money, prepare everything out there, conquer

all difficulties, and do the deed so soon as the forces of Spain and

Italy arrive, according to the plan laid down by your Excellency last

year. Make use of the negotiations for peace for this one purpose, and no

more, and do the business like the man you are. Attribute the liberty of

this advice to my desire to serve you more than any other, to my

knowledge of how much you will thereby gratify his Majesty, and to my

fear of his resentment towards you, in the contrary case."

And, on the same day, in order that there might be no doubt of the royal

sentiments, Philip expressed himself at length on the whole subject. The

dealings of Farnese with the English, and his feeding them with hopes of

peace, would have given him more satisfaction, he observed, if it had

caused their preparations to slacken; but, on the contrary, their

boldness had increased. They had perpetrated the inhuman murder of the

Queen of Scots, and moreover, not content with their piracies at sea and

in the Indies, they had dared to invade the ports of Spain, as would

appear in the narrative transmitted to Farnese of the late events at

Cadiz. And although that damage was small, said Philip; there resulted a

very great obligation to take them 'seriously in hand.' He declined

sending fill powers for treating; but in order to make use of the same

arts employed by the English, he preferred that Alexander should not

undeceive them, but desired him to express, as out of his own head; to

the negotiators, his astonishment that while they were holding such

language they should commit such actions. Even their want of prudence in

thus provoking the King; when their strength was compared to his, should

be spoken of by Farnese as--wonderful, and he was to express the opinion

that his Majesty would think him much wanting in circumspection, should

he go on negotiating while they were playing such tricks. "You must show

yourself very sensitive, about this event," continued Philip, "and you

must give them to understand that I am quite as angry as you. You must

try to draw from them some offer of satisfaction--however false it will

be in reality--such as a proposal to recall the fleet, or an assertion

that the deeds of Drake in Cadiz were without the knowledge and contrary

to the will of the Queen, and that she very much regrets them, or

something of that sort."

It has already been shown that Farnese was very successful in eliciting

from the Queen, through the mouth of Lord' Burghley, as ample a disavowal

and repudiation of Sir Francis Drake as the King could possibly desire.

Whether it would have the desired effect--of allaying the wrath of

Philip; might have been better foretold, could the letter, with which we

are now occupied, have been laid upon the Greenwich council-board.

"When you have got, such a disavowal," continued his Majesty, "you are to

act as if entirely taken in and imposed upon by them, and, pretending to

believe everything they tell you, you must renew the negotiations,

proceed to name commissioners, and propose a meeting upon neutral

territory. As for powers; say that you, as my governor-general, will

entrust them to your deputies, in regard to the Netherlands. For all

other matters, say that you have had full powers for many months, but

that you cannot exhibit them until conditions worthy of my acceptance

have been offered.--Say this only for the sake of appearance. This is the

true way to take them in, and so the peace-commissioners may meet. But to

you only do I declare that my intention is that this shall never lead to

any result, whatever conditions maybe offered by them. On the contrary,

all this is done--just as they do--to deceive them, and to cool them in

their preparations for defence, by inducing them to believe that such

preparations will be unnecessary. You are well aware that the reverse of

all this is the truth, and that on our part there is to be no slackness,

but the greatest diligence in our efforts for the invasion of England,

for which we have already made the most abundant provision in men, ships,

and money, of which you are well aware."

Is it strange that the Queen of England was deceived? Is it matter of

surprise, censure, or shame, that no English statesman was astute enough

or base enough to contend with such diplomacy, which seemed inspired only

by the very father of lies?

"Although we thus enter into negotiations," continued the King--unveiling

himself, with a solemn indecency, not agreeable to contemplate--"without

any intention of concluding them, you can always get out of them with

great honour, by taking umbrage about the point of religion and about

some other of the outrageous propositions which they are like to propose,

and of which there are plenty, in the letters of Andrew de Loo. Your

commissioners must be instructed; to refer all important matters to your

personal decision. The English will be asking for damages for money,

spent in assisting my rebels; your commissioners will contend that

damages are rather due to me. Thus, and in other ways, time will be

agent. Your own envoys are not to know the secret any more than the

English themselves. I tell it to you only. Thus you will proceed with the

negotiations, now, yielding on one point, and now insisting on another,

but directing all to the same object--to gain time while proceeding with

the preparation for the invasion, according to the plan already agreed

upon."

Certainly the most Catholic King seemed, in this remarkable letter to

have outdone himself; and Farnese--that sincere Farnese, in whose loyal,

truth-telling, chivalrous character, the Queen and her counsellors placed

such implicit reliance--could thenceforward no longer be embarrassed as

to the course he was to adopt. To lie daily, through, thick, and thin,

and with every variety of circumstance and detail which; a genius fertile

in fiction could suggest, such was the simple rule prescribed by his

sovereign. And the rule was implicitly obeyed, and the English sovereign

thoroughly deceived. The secret confided only, to the faithful breast of

Alexander was religiously kept. Even the Pope was outwitted. His Holiness

proposed to, Philip the invasion of England, and offered a million to

further the plan. He was most desirous to be informed if the project was,

resolved upon, and, if so, when it was to be accomplished. The King took

the Pope's million, but refused the desired information. He answered

evasively. He had a very good will to invade the country, he said, but

there were great difficulties in the way. After a time, the Pope again

tried to pry into the matter, and again offered the million which Philip

had only accepted for the time when it might be wanted; giving him at the

same time, to understand that it was not necessary at that time, because

there were then great impediments. "Thus he is pledged to give me the

subsidy, and I am not pledged for the time," said Philip, "and I keep my

secret, which is the most important of all."

Yet after all, Farnese did not see his way clear towards the consummation

of the plan. His army had wofully dwindled, and before he could seriously

set about ulterior matters, it would be necessary to take the city of

Sluys. This was to prove--as already seen--a most arduous enterprise. He

complained to Philip' of his inadequate supplies both in men and money.

The project conceived in the royal breast was worth spending millions

for, he said, and although by zeal and devotion he could accomplish

something, yet after all he was no more than a man, and without the

necessary means the scheme could not succeed. But Philip, on the

contrary, was in the highest possible spirits. He had collected more

money, he declared than had ever been seen before in the world. He had

two million ducats in reserve, besides the Pope's million; the French

were in a most excellent state of division, and the invasion should be

made this year without fail. The fleet would arrive in the English

channel by the end of the summer; which would be exactly in conformity

with Alexander's ideas. The invasion was to be threefold: from Scotland,

under the Scotch earls and their followers, with the money and troops

furnished by Philip; from the Netherlands, under Parma; and by the great

Spanish armada itself, upon the Isle of Wight. Alexander must recommend

himself to God, in whose cause he was acting, and then do his duty; which

lay very plain before him. If he ever wished to give his sovereign

satisfaction in his life; he was to do the deed that year, whatever might

betide. Never could there be so fortunate a conjunction of circumstances

again. France was in a state of revolution, the German levies were weak,

the Turk was fully occupied in Persia, an enormous mass of money, over

and above the Pope's million, had been got together, and although the

season was somewhat advanced, it was certain that the Duke would conquer

all impediments, and be the instrument by which his royal master might

render to God that service which he was so anxious to perform.

Enthusiastic, though gouty, Philip grasped the pen in order to scrawl a

few words with his own royal hand. "This business is of such importance,"

he said, "and it is so necessary that it should not be delayed, that I

cannot refrain from urging it upon you as much as I can. I should do it

even more amply; if this hand would allow me, which has been crippled

with gout these several days, and my feet as well, and although it is

unattended with pain, yet it is an impediment to writing."

Struggling thus against his own difficulties, and triumphantly,

accomplishing a whole paragraph with disabled hand, it was natural that

the King should expect Alexander, then deep in the siege of Sluy's, to

vanquish all his obstacles as successfully; and to effect the conquest of

England so soon as the harvests of that kingdom should be garnered.

Sluy's was surrendered at last, and the great enterprise seemed opening

from hour to hour. During the months of autumn; upon the very days when

those loving messages, mixed with gentle reproaches, were sent by

Alexander to Elizabeth, and almost at the self-same hours in which honest

Andrew de Loo was getting such head-aches by drinking the Queen's health

with Cosimo, and Champagny, the Duke and Philip were interchanging

detailed information as to the progress of the invasion. The King

calculated that by the middle of September Alexander would have 30,000

men in the Netherlands ready for embarcation.--Marquis Santa Cruz was

announced as nearly ready to, sail for the English channel with 22,000

more, among whom were to be 16,000 seasoned Spanish infantry. The Marquis

was then to extend the hand to Parma, and protect that passage to England

which the Duke was at once to effect. The danger might be great for so

large a fleet to navigate the seas at so late a season of the year; but

Philip was sure that God, whose cause it was, would be pleased to give

good weather. The Duke was to send, with infinite precautions of secrecy,

information which the Marquis would expect off Ushant, and be quite ready

to act so soon as Santa Cruz should arrive. Most earnestly and anxiously

did the King deprecate any, thought of deferring the expedition to

another year. If delayed, the obstacles of the following summer--a peace

in France, a peace between the Turk and Persia, and other

contingencies--would cause the whole project to fail, and Philip

declared, with much iteration, that money; reputation, honour, his own

character and that of Farnese, and God's service, were all at stake. He

was impatient at suggestions of difficulties occasionally, ventured by

the Duke, who was reminded that he had been appointed chief of the great

enterprise by the spontaneous choice of his master, and that all his

plans had been minutely followed. "You are the author of the whole

scheme," said Philip, "and if it, is all to vanish into space, what kind

of a figure shall we cut the coming year?" Again and again he referred to

the immense sum collected--such as never before had been seen since the

world was made--4,800,000 ducats with 2,000,000 in reserve, of which he

was authorized to draw for 500,000 in advance, to say nothing of the

Pope's million.

But Alexander, while straining every nerve to obey his master's wishes

about the invasion, and to blind the English by the fictitious

negotiations, was not so sanguine as his sovereign. In truth, there was

something puerile in the eagerness which Philip manifested. He had made

up his mind that England was to be conquered that autumn, and had

endeavoured--as well as he could--to comprehend, the plans which his

illustrious general had laid down for accomplishing that purpose. Of,

course; to any man of average intellect, or, in truth, to any man outside

a madhouse; it would seem an essential part of the conquest that the

Armada should arrive. Yet--wonderful to relate-Philip, in his impatience,

absolutely suggested that the Duke might take possession of England

without waiting for Santa Cruz and his Armada. As the autumn had been

wearing away, and there had been unavoidable delays about the shipping in

Spanish ports, the King thought it best not to defer matters till, the

winter. "You are, doubtless, ready," he said to Farnese. "If you think

you can make the passage to England before the fleet from Spain arrives,

go at once. You maybe sure that it will come ere long to support, you.

But if, you prefer, to wait, wait. The dangers of winter, to the fleet

and to your own person are to be regretted; but God, whose cause it is;

will protect you."

It was, easy to sit quite out of harm's way, and to make such excellent,

arrangements for smooth weather in the wintry channel, and for the

conquest of a maritime and martial kingdom by a few flat bottoms. Philip

had little difficulty on that score, but the affairs of France were not

quite to his mind. The battle of Coutras, and the entrance of the German

and Swiss mercenaries into that country, were somewhat perplexing. Either

those auxiliaries of the Huguenots would be defeated, or they would be

victorious, or both parties would come to an agreement. In the first

event, the Duke, after sending a little assistance to Mucio, was to

effect his passage to England at once. In the second case, those troops,

even though successful, would doubtless be so much disorganized that it

might be still safe for Farnese to go on. In the third contingency--that

of an accord--it would be necessary for him to wait till the foreign

troops had disbanded and left France. He was to maintain all his forces

in perfect readiness, on pretext of the threatening aspect of French

matters and, so soon as the Swiss and Germane were dispersed, he was to

proceed to business without delay. The fleet would be ready in Spain in

all November, but as sea-affairs were so doubtful, particularly in

winter, and as the Armada could not reach the channel till mid-winter;

the Duke was not to wait for its arrival. "Whenever you see a favourable

opportunity," said Philip, "you must take care not to lose it, even if

the fleet has not made its appearance. For you may be sure that it will

soon come to give you assistance, in one way or another."

Farnese had also been strictly enjoined to deal gently with the English,

after the conquest, so that they would have cause to love their new

master. His troops were not to forget discipline after victory. There was

to be no pillage or rapine. The Catholics were to be handsomely rewarded

and all the inhabitants were to be treated with so much indulgence that,

instead of abhorring Parma and his soldiers, they would conceive a strong

affection for them all, as the source of so many benefits. Again the Duke

was warmly commended for the skill with which he had handled the peace

negotiation. It was quite right to appoint commissioners, but it was

never for an instant to be forgotten that the sole object of treating was

to take the English unawares. "And therefore do you guide them to this

end," said the King with pious unction, "which is what you owe to God, in

whose service I have engaged in this enterprise, and to whom I have

dedicated the whole." The King of France, too--that unfortunate Henry

III., against whose throne and life Philip maintained in constant pay an

organized band of conspirators--was affectionately adjured, through the

Spanish envoy in Paris, Mendoza,--to reflect upon the advantages to

France of a Catholic king and kingdom of England, in place of the

heretics now in power.

But Philip, growing more and more sanguine, as those visions of fresh

crowns and conquered kingdoms rose before him in his solitary cell, had

even persuaded himself that the deed was already done. In the early days

of December, he expressed a doubt whether his 14th November letter had

reached the Duke, who by that time was probably in England. One would

have thought the King addressing a tourist just starting on a little

pleasure-excursion. And this was precisely the moment when Alexander had

been writing those affectionate phrases to the Queen which had been

considered by the counsellors at Greenwich so "princely and Christianly,"

and which Croft had pronounced such "very good words."

If there had been no hostile, fleet to prevent, it was to be hoped, said

Philip, that, in the name of God, the passage had been made. "Once landed

there," continued the King, "I am persuaded that you will give me a good

account of yourself, and, with the help of our Lord, that you will do

that service which I desire to render to Him, and that He will guide our

cause, which is His own, and of such great importance to His Church." A

part of the fleet would soon after arrive and bring six thousand

Spaniards, the Pope's million, and other good things, which might prove

useful to Parma, presupposing that they would find him established on the

enemy's territory.

This conviction that the enterprise had been already accomplished grew

stronger in the King's breast every day. He was only a little disturbed

lest Farnese should have misunderstood that 14th November letter.

Philip--as his wont was--had gone into so many petty and puzzling

details, and had laid down rules of action suitable for various

contingencies, so easy to put comfortably upon paper, but which might

become perplexing in action, that it was no wonder he should be a little

anxious. The third contingency suggested by him had really occurred.

There had been a composition between the foreign mercenaries and the

French King. Nevertheless they had also been once or twice defeated, and

this was contingency number two. Now which of the events would the Duke

consider as having really occurred. It was to be hoped that he would have

not seen cause for delay, for in truth number three was not exactly the

contingency which existed. France was still in a very satisfactory state

of discord and rebellion. The civil war was by no means over. There was

small fear of peace that winter. Give Mucio his pittance with frugal

hand, and that dangerous personage would ensure tranquillity for Philip's

project, and misery for Henry III. and his subjects for an indefinite

period longer. The King thought it improbable that Farnese could have

made any mistake. He expressed therefore a little anxiety at having

received no intelligence from him, but had great confidence that, with

the aid of the Lord and of with his own courage he had accomplished the

great exploit. Philip had only, recommended delay in event of a general

peace in France--Huguenots, Royalists, Leaguers, and all. This had not

happened. "Therefore, I trust," said the King; "that you--perceiving that

this is not contingency number three which was to justify a pause--will

have already executed the enterprise, and fulfilled my desire. I am

confident that the deed is done, and that God has blessed it, and I am

now expecting the news from hour to hour."

But Alexander had not yet arrived in England. The preliminaries for the

conquest caused him more perplexity than the whole enterprise occasioned

to Philip. He was very short of funds. The five millions were not to be

touched, except for the expenses of the invasion. But as England was to

be subjugated, in order that rebellious Holland might be recovered, it

was hardly reasonable to go away leaving such inadequate forces in the

Netherlands as to ensure not only independence to the new republic, but

to hold out temptation for revolt to the obedient Provinces. Yet this was

the dilemma in which the Duke was placed. So much money had been set

aside for the grand project that there was scarcely anything for the

regular military business. The customary supplies had not been sent.

Parma had leave to draw for six hundred thousand ducats, and he was able

to get that draft discounted on the Antwerp Exchange by consenting to

receive five hundred thousand, or sacrificing sixteen per cent. of the

sum. A good number of transports, and scows had been collected, but there

had been a deficiency of money for their proper equipment, as the five

millions had been very slow in coming, and were still upon the road. The

whole enterprise was on the point of being sacrificed, according to

Farnese, for want of funds. The time for doing the deed had arrived, and

he declared himself incapacitated by poverty. He expressed his disgust

and resentment in language more energetic than courtly; and protested

that he was not to blame. "I always thought," said he bitterly, "that

your Majesty would provide all that was necessary even in superfluity,

and not limit me beneath the ordinary. I did not suppose, when it was

most important to have ready money, that I should be kept short, and not

allowed to draw certain sums by anticipation, which I should have done

had you not forbidden."

This was, through life, a striking characteristic of Philip. Enormous

schemes were laid out with utterly inadequate provision for their

accomplishment, and a confident expectation entertained that wild,

visions were; in some indefinite way, to be converted into substantial

realities, without fatigue or personal exertion on his part, and with a

very trifling outlay of ready money.

Meantime the faithful Farnese did his best. He was indefatigable night

and day in getting his boats together and providing his munitions of war.

He dug a canal from Sas de Gand--which was one of his principal

depots--all the way to Sluys, because the water-communication between

those two points was entirely in the hands of the Hollanders and

Zeelanders. The rebel cruisers swarmed in the Scheldt, from, Flushing

almost to Antwerp, so that it was quite impossible for Parma's forces to

venture forth at all; and it also seemed hopeless to hazard putting to

sea from Sluys. At the same, time he had appointed his, commissioners to

treat with the English envoys already named by the Queen. There had been

much delay in the arrival of those deputies, on account of the noise

raised by Barneveld and his followers; but Burghley was now sanguine that

the exposure of what he called the Advocate's seditious, false, and

perverse proceedings, would enable Leicester to procure the consent of

the States to a universal peace.

And thus, with these parallel schemes of invasion and negotiation,

spring; summer, and autumn, had worn away. Santa Cruz was still with his

fleet in Lisbon, Cadiz, and the Azores; and Parma was in Brussels, when

Philip fondly imagined him established in Greenwich Palace. When made

aware of his master's preposterous expectations, Alexander would have

been perhaps amused, had he not been half beside himself with

indignation. Such folly seemed incredible. There was not the slightest

appearance of a possibility of making a passage without the protection of

the Spanish fleet, he observed. His vessels were mere transport-boats,

without the least power of resisting an enemy. The Hollanders and

Zeelanders, with one hundred and forty cruisers, had shut him up in all

directions. He could neither get out from Antwerp nor from Sluys. There

were large English ships, too, cruising in the channel, and they were

getting ready in the Netherlands and in England "most furiously." The

delays had been so great, that their secret had been poorly kept, and the

enemy was on his guard. If Santa Cruz had come, Alexander declared that

he should have already been in England. When he did come he should still

be prepared to make the passage; but to talk of such an attempt without

the Armada was senseless, and he denounced the madness of that

proposition to his Majesty in vehement and unmeasured terms. His army, by

sickness and other causes, had been reduced to one-half the number

considered necessary for the invasion, and the rebels had established

regular squadrons in the Scheldt, in the very teeth of the forts, at

Lillo, Liefkenshoek, Saftingen, and other points close to Antwerp. There

were so many of these war-vessels, and all in such excellent order, that

they were a most notable embarrassment to him, he observed, and his own

flotilla would run great risk of being utterly destroyed. Alexander had

been personally superintending matters at Sluys, Ghent, and Antwerp, and

had strengthened with artillery the canal which he had constructed

between Sas and Sluys. Meantime his fresh troops had been slowly

arriving, but much sickness prevailed among them. The Italians were dying

fast, almost all the Spaniards were in hospital, and the others were so

crippled and worn out that it was most pitiable to behold them; yet it

was absolutely necessary that those who were in health should accompany

him to England, since otherwise his Spanish force would be altogether too

weak to do the service expected. He had got together a good number of

transports. Not counting his Antwerp fleet--which could not stir from

port, as he bitterly complained, nor be of any use, on account of the

rebel blockade--he had between Dunkerk and Newport seventy-four vessels

of various kinds fit for sea-service, one hundred and fifty flat-bottoms

(pleytas), and seventy riverhoys, all which were to be assembled at

Sluys, whence they would--so soon as Santa Cruz should make his

appearance--set forth for England. This force of transports he pronounced

sufficient, when properly protected by the Spanish Armada, to carry

himself and his troops across the channel. If, therefore, the matter did

not become publicly known, and if the weather proved favourable, it was

probable that his Majesty's desire would soon be fulfilled according to

the plan proposed. The companies of light horse and of arquebusmen, with

which he meant to make his entrance into London, had been clothed, armed,

and mounted, he said, in a manner delightful to contemplate, and those

soldiers at least might be trusted--if they could only effect their

passage--to do good service, and make matters quite secure.

But craftily as the King and Duke had been dealing, it had been found

impossible to keep such vast preparations entirely secret. Walsingham was

in full possession of their plans down to the most minute details. The

misfortune was that he was unable to persuade his sovereign, Lord

Burghley, and others of the peace-party, as to the accuracy of his

information. Not only was he thoroughly instructed in regard to the

number of men, vessels, horses, mules, saddles, spurs, lances, barrels of

beer and tons of biscuit, and other particulars of the contemplated

invasion, but he had even received curious intelligence as to the

gorgeous equipment of those very troops, with which the Duke was just

secretly announcing to the King his intention of making his triumphal

entrance into the English capital. Sir Francis knew how many thousand

yards of cramoisy velvet, how many hundredweight of gold and silver

embroidery, how much satin and feathers, and what quantity of pearls and

diamonds; Farnese had been providing himself withal. He knew the tailors,

jewellers, silversmiths, and haberdashers, with whom the great

Alexander--as he now began to be called--had been dealing; but when he

spoke at the council-board, it was to ears wilfully deaf.

["There is provided for lights a great number of torches, and so

tempered that no water can put them out. A great number of little

mills for grinding corn, great store of biscuit baked and oxen

salted, great number of saddles and boots also there is made 500

pair of velvet shoes-red, crimson velvet, and in every cloister

throughout the country great quantity of roses made of silk, white

and red, which are to be badges for divers of his gentlemen. By

reason of these roses it is expected he is going for England. There

is sold to the Prince by John Angel, pergaman, ten hundred-weight of

velvet, gold and silver to embroider his apparel withal. The

covering to his mules is most gorgeously embroidered with gold and

silver, which carry his baggage. There is also sold to him by the

Italian merchants at least 670 pieces of velvet to apparel him and

his train. Every captain has received a gift from the Prince to

make himself brave, and for Captain Corralini, an Italian, who hath

one cornet of horse, I have seen with my eyes a saddle with the

trappings of his horse, his coat and rapier and dagger, which cost

3,500 French crowns. (!!) All their lances are painted of divers

colours, blue and white, green and White, and most part blood-red--

so there is as great preparation for a triumph as for war. A great

number of English priests come to Antwerp from all places. The

commandment is given to all the churches to read the Litany daily

for the prosperity of the Prince in his enterprise." John Giles to

Walsingham, 4 Dec. 1587.(S. P. Office MS.)

The same letter conveyed also very detailed information concerning

the naval preparations by the Duke, besides accurate intelligence in

regard to the progress of the armada in Cadiz and Lisbon.

Sir William Russet wrote also from Flushing concerning these

preparations in much the same strain; but it is worthy of note that

he considered Farnese to be rather intending a movement against

France.

"The Prince of Parma," he said, "is making great preparations for

war, and with all expedition means to march a great army, and for a

triumph, the coats and costly, apparel for his own body doth exceed

for embroidery, and beset with jewels; for all the embroiderers and

diamond-cutters work both night and day, such haste is made. Five

hundred velvet coats of one sort for lances, and a great number of

brave new coats made for horsemen; 30,000 men are ready, and gather

in Brabant and Flanders. It is said that there shall be in two days

10,000 to do some great exploit in these parts, and 20,000 to march

with the Prince into France, and for certain it is not known what

way or how they shall march, but all are ready at an hour's warning

--4,000 saddles, 4000 lances. 6,000 pairs of boots, 2,000 barrels of

beer, biscuit sufficient for a camp of 20,000 men, &c. The Prince

hath received a marvellous costly garland or crown from the Pope,

and is chosen chief of the holy league..."]

Nor was much concealed from the Argus-eyed politicians in the republic.

The States were more and more intractable. They knew nearly all the truth

with regard to the intercourse between the Queen's government and

Farnese, and they suspected more than the truth. The list of English

commissioners privately agreed upon between Burghley and De Loo was known

to Barneveld, Maurice, and Hohenlo, before it came to the ears of

Leicester. In June, Buckhurst had been censured by Elizabeth for opening

the peace matter to members of the States, according to her bidding, and

in July Leicester was rebuked for exactly the opposite delinquency. She

was very angry that he had delayed the communication of her policy so

long, but she expressed her anger only when that policy had proved so

transparent as to make concealment hopeless. Leicester, as well as

Buckhurst, knew that it was idle to talk to the Netherlanders of peace,

because of their profound distrust in every word that came from Spanish

or Italian lips; but Leicester, less frank than Buckhurst, preferred to

flatter his sovereign, rather than to tell her unwelcome truths. More

fortunate than Buckhurst, he was rewarded for his flattery by boundless

affection, and promotion to the very highest post in England when the

hour of England's greatest peril had arrived, while the truth-telling

counsellor was consigned to imprisonment and disgrace. When the Queen

complained sharply that the States were mocking her, and that she was

touched in honour at the prospect of not keeping her plighted word to

Farnese, the Earl assured her that the Netherlanders were fast changing

their views; that although the very name of peace had till then been

odious and loathsome, yet now, as coming from her Majesty, they would

accept it with thankful hearts.

The States, or the leading members of that assembly, factious fellows,

pestilent and seditious knaves, were doing their utmost, and were singing

sirens' songs' to enchant and delude the people, but they were fast

losing their influence--so warmly did the country desire to conform to

her Majesty's pleasure. He expatiated, however, upon the difficulties in

his path. The knowledge possessed by the pestilent fellows as to the

actual position of affairs, was very mischievous. It was honey to Maurice

and Hohenlo, he said, that the Queen's secret practices with Farnese had

thus been discovered. Nothing could be more marked than the jollity with

which the ringleaders hailed these preparations for peace-making, for

they now felt certain that the government of their country had been fixed

securely in their own hands. They were canonized, said the Earl, for

their hostility to peace.

Should not this conviction, on the part of men who had so many means of

feeling the popular pulse, have given the Queen's government pause? To

serve his sovereign in truth, Leicester might have admitted a possibility

at least of honesty on the part of men who were so ready to offer up

their lives for their country. For in a very few weeks he was obliged to

confess that the people were no longer so well disposed to acquiesce in

her Majesty's policy. The great majority, both of the States and the

people, were in favour, he agreed, of continuing the war. The inhabitants

of the little Province of Holland alone, he said, had avowed their

determination to maintain their rights--even if obliged to fight

single-handed--and to shed the last drop in their veins, rather than to

submit again to Spanish tyranny. This seemed a heroic resolution, worthy

the sympathy of a brave Englishman, but the Earl's only comment upon it

was, that it proved the ringleaders "either to be traitors or else the

most blindest asses in the world." He never scrupled, on repeated

occasions, to insinuate that Barneveld, Hohenlo, Buys, Roorda, Sainte

Aldegonde, and the Nassaus, had organized a plot to sell their country to

Spain. Of this there was not the faintest evidence, but it was the only

way in which he chose to account for their persistent opposition to the

peace-negotiations, and to their reluctance to confer absolute power on

himself. "'Tis a crabbed, sullen, proud kind of people," said he, "and

bent on establishing a popular government,"--a purpose which seemed

somewhat inconsistent with the plot for selling their country to Spain,

which he charged in the same breath on the same persons.

Early in August, by the Queen's command, he had sent a formal

communication respecting the private negotiations to the States, but he

could tell them no secret. The names of the commissioners, and even the

supposed articles of a treaty already concluded, were flying from town to

town, from mouth to mouth, so that the Earl pronounced it impossible for

one, not on the spot, to imagine the excitement which existed.

He had sent a state-counsellor, one Bardesius, to the Hague, to open the

matter; but that personage had only ventured to whisper a word to one or

two members of the States, and was assured that the proposition, if made,

would raise such a tumult of fury, that he might fear for his life. So

poor Bardesius came back to Leicester, fell on his knees, and implored

him; at least to pause in these fatal proceedings. After an interval, he

sent two eminent statesmen, Valk and Menin, to lay the subject before the

assembly. They did so, and it was met by fierce denunciation. On their

return, the Earl, finding that so much violence had been excited,

pretended that they had misunderstood his meaning, and that he had never

meant to propose peace-negotiations. But Valk and Menin were too old

politicians to be caught in such a trap, and they produced a brief, drawn

up in Italian--the foreign language best understood by the Earl--with his

own corrections and interlineations, so that he was forced to admit that

there had been no misconception.

Leicester at last could no longer doubt that he was universally odious in

the Provinces. Hohenlo, Barneveld, and the rest, who had "championed the

country against the peace," were carrying all before them. They had

persuaded the people, that the "Queen was but a tickle stay for them,"

and had inflated young Maurice with vast ideas of his importance, telling

him that he was "a natural patriot, the image of his noble father, whose

memory was yet great among them, as good reason, dying in their cause, as

he had done." The country was bent on a popular government, and on

maintaining the war. There was no possibility, he confessed, that they

would ever confer the authority on him which they had formerly bestowed.

The Queen had promised, when he left England the second time, that his

absence should be for but three months, and he now most anxiously claimed

permission to depart. Above all things, he deprecated being employed as a

peace-commissioner. He was, of all men, the most unfit for such a post.

At the same time he implored the statesmen at home to be wary in

selecting the wisest persons for that arduous duty, in order that the

peace might be made for Queen Elizabeth, as well as for King Philip. He

strongly recommended, for that duty, Beale, the councillor, who with

Killigrew had replaced the hated Wilkes and the pacific Bartholomew

Clerk. "Mr. Beale, brother-in-law to Walsingham, is in my books a

prince," said the Earl. "He was drowned in England, but most useful in

the Netherlands. Without him I am naked."

And at last the governor told the Queen what Buckhurst and Walsingham had

been perpetually telling her, that the Duke of Parma meant mischief; and

he sent the same information as to hundreds of boats preparing, with six

thousand shirts for camisados, 7000 pairs of wading boots, and saddles,

stirrups, and spurs, enough for a choice band of 3000 men. A shrewd

troop, said the Earl, of the first soldiers in Christendom, to be landed

some fine morning in England. And he too had heard of the jewelled suits

of cramoisy velvet, and all the rest of the finery with which the

triumphant Alexander was intending to astonish London. "Get horses

enough, and muskets enough in England," exclaimed Leicester, "and then

our people will not be beaten, I warrant you, if well led."

And now, the governor--who, in order to soothe his sovereign and comply

with her vehement wishes, had so long misrepresented the state of public

feeling--not only confessed that Papists and Protestants, gentle and

simple, the States and the people, throughout the republic, were all

opposed to any negotiation with the enemy, but lifted up his own voice,

and in earnest language expressed his opinion of the Queen's infatuation.

"Oh, my Lord, what a treaty is this for peace," said he to Burghley,

"that we must treat, altogether disarmed and weakened, and the King

having made his forces stronger than ever he had known in these parts,

besides what is coming out, of Spain, and yet we will presume of good

conditions. It grieveth me to the heart. But I fear you will all smart

for it, and I pray God her Majesty feel it not, if it be His blessed

will. She meaneth well and sincerely to have peace, but God knows that

this is not the way. Well, God Almighty defend us and the realm, and

especially her Majesty. But look for a sharp war, or a miserable peace,

to undo others and ourselves after."

Walsingham, too, was determined not to act as a commissioner. If his

failing health did not serve as an excuse, he should be obliged to

refuse, he said, and so forfeit her Majesty's favour, rather than be

instrumental in bringing about her ruin, and that of his country. Never

for an instant had the Secretary of State faltered in his opposition to

the timid policy of Burghley. Again and again he had detected the

intrigues of the Lord-Treasurer and Sir James Croft, and ridiculed the

"comptroller's peace."

And especially did Walsingham bewail the implicit confidence which the

Queen placed in the sugary words of Alexander, and the fatal parsimony

which caused her to neglect defending herself against Scotland; for he

was as well informed as was Farnese himself of Philip's arrangements with

the Scotch lords, and of the subsidies in men and money by which their

invasion of England was to be made part of the great scheme. "No one

thing," sighed Walsingham, "doth more prognosticate an alteration of this

estate, than that a prince of her Majesty's judgment should neglect, in

respect of a little charges, the stopping of so dangerous a gap. . . .

The manner of our cold and careless proceeding here, in this time of

peril, maketh me to take no comfort of my recovery of health, for that I

see, unless it shall please God in mercy and miraculously to preserve us,

we cannot long stand."

Leicester, finding himself unable to counteract the policy of Barneveld

and his party, by expostulation or argument, conceived a very dangerous

and criminal project before he left the country. The facts are somewhat

veiled in mystery; but he was suspected, on weighty evidence, of a design

to kidnap both Maurice and Barneveld, and carry them off to England. Of

this intention, which was foiled at any rate, before it could be carried

into execution, there is perhaps not conclusive proof, but it has already

been shown, from a deciphered letter, that the Queen had once given

Buckhurst and Wilkes peremptory orders to seize the person of Hohenlo,

and it is quite possible that similar orders may have been received at a

later moment with regard to the young Count and the Advocate. At any

rate, it is certain that late in the autumn, some friends of Barneveld

entered his bedroom, at the Hague, in the dead of night, and informed him

that a plot was on foot to lay violent hands upon him, and that an armed

force was already on its way to execute this purpose of Leicester, before

the dawn of day. The Advocate, without loss of time, took his departure

for Delft, a step which was followed, shortly afterwards, by Maurice.

Nor was this the only daring--stroke which the Earl had meditated. During

the progress of the secret negotiations with Parma, he had not neglected

those still more secret schemes to which he had occasionally made

allusion. He had determined, if possible, to obtain possession of the

most important cities in Holland and Zeeland. It was very plain to him,

that he could no longer hope, by fair means, for the great authority once

conferred upon him by the free will of the States. It was his purpose,

therefore, by force and stratagem to recover his lost power. We have

heard the violent terms in which both the Queen and the Earl denounced

the men who accused the English government of any such intention. It had

been formally denied by the States-General that Barneveld had ever used

the language in that assembly with which he had been charged. He had only

revealed to them the exact purport of the letter to Junius, and of the

Queen's secret instructions to Leicester. Whatever he may have said in

private conversation, and whatever deductions he may have made among his

intimate friends, from the admitted facts in the case, could hardly be

made matters of record. It does not appear that he, or the statesmen who

acted with him, considered the Earl capable of a deliberate design to

sell the cities, thus to be acquired, to Spain, as the price of peace for

England. Certainly Elizabeth would have scorned such a crime, and was

justly indignant at rumours prevalent to that effect; but the wrath of

the Queen and of her favourite were, perhaps, somewhat simulated, in

order to cover their real mortification at the discovery of designs on

the part of the Earl which could not be denied. Not only had they been at

last compelled to confess these negotiations, which for several months

had been concealed and stubbornly denied, but the still graver plots of

the Earl to regain his much-coveted authority had been, in a startling

manner, revealed. The leaders of the States-General had a right to

suspect the English Earl of a design to reenact the part of the Duke of

Anjou, and were justified in taking stringent measures to prevent a

calamity, which, as they believed, was impending over their little

commonwealth. The high-handed dealings of Leicester in the city of

Utrecht have been already described. The most respectable and influential

burghers of the place had been imprisoned and banished, the municipal

government wrested from the hands to which it legitimately belonged, and

confided to adventurers, who wore the cloak of Calvinism to conceal their

designs, and a successful effort had been made, in the name of democracy,

to eradicate from one ancient province the liberty on which it prided

itself.

In the course of the autumn, an attempt was made to play the same game at

Amsterdam. A plot was discovered, before it was fairly matured, to seize

the magistrates of that important city, to gain possession of the

arsenals, and to place the government in the hands of well-known

Leicestrians. A list of fourteen influential citizens, drawn up in the

writing of Burgrave, the Earl's confidential secretary, was found, all of

whom, it was asserted, had been doomed to the scaffold.

The plot to secure Amsterdam had failed, but, in North Holland, Medenblik

was held firmly for Leicester, by Diedrich Sonoy, in the very teeth of

the States. The important city of Enkhuyzen, too, was very near being

secured for the Earl, but a still more significant movement was made at

Leyden. That heroic city, ever since the famous siege of 1574, in which

the Spaniard had been so signally foiled, had distinguished itself by

great liberality of sentiment in religious matters. The burghers were

inspired by a love of country, and a hatred of oppression, both civil

and, ecclesiastical; and Papists and Protestants, who had fought side by

side against the common foe, were not disposed to tear each other to

pieces, now that he had been excluded from their gates. Meanwhile,

however, refugee Flemings and Brabantines had sought an asylum in the

city, and being, as usual, of the strictest sect of the Calvinists were

shocked at the latitudinarianism which prevailed. To the honour of the

city--as it seems to us now--but, to their horror, it was even found that

one or two Papists had seats in the magistracy. More than all this, there

was a school in the town kept by a Catholic, and Adrian van der Werff

himself--the renowned burgomaster, who had sustained the city during the

dreadful leaguer of 1574, and who had told the famishing burghers that

they might eat him if they liked, but that they should never surrender to

the Spaniards while he remained alive--even Adrian van der Werff had sent

his son to this very school? To the clamour made by the refugees against

this spirit of toleration, one of the favourite preachers in the town, of

Arminian tendencies, had declared in the pulpit, that he would as lieve

see the Spanish as the Calvinistic inquisition established over his

country; using an expression, in regard to the church of Geneva, more

energetic than decorous.

It was from Leyden that the chief opposition came to a synod, by which a

great attempt was to be made towards subjecting the new commonwealth to a

masked theocracy; a scheme which the States of Holland had resisted with

might and main. The Calvinistic party, waxing stronger in Leyden,

although still in a minority, at last resolved upon a strong effort to

place the city in the hands of that great representative of Calvinism,

the Earl of Leicester. Jacques Volmar, a deacon of the church, Cosmo de

Pescarengis, a Genoese captain of much experience in the service of the

republic, Adolphus de Meetkerke, former president of Flanders, who had

been, by the States, deprived of the seat in the great council to which

the Earl had appointed him; Doctor Saravia, professor of theology in the

university, with other deacons, preachers, and captains, went at

different times from Leyden to Utrecht, and had secret interviews with

Leicester.

A plan was at last agreed upon, according to which, about the middle of

October, a revolution should be effected in Leyden. Captain Nicholas de

Maulde, who had recently so much distinguished himself in the defence of

Sluys, was stationed with two companies of States' troops in the city. He

had been much disgusted--not without reason--at the culpable negligence

through which the courageous efforts of the Sluys garrison had been set

at nought, and the place sacrificed, when it might so easily have been

relieved; and he ascribed the whole of the guilt to Maurice, Hohenlo, and

the States, although it could hardly be denied that at least an equal

portion belonged to Leicester and his party. The young captain listened,

therefore, to a scheme propounded to him by Colonel Cosine, and Deacon

Volmar, in the name of Leicester. He agreed, on a certain day, to muster

his company, to leave the city by the Delft gate--as if by command of

superior authority--to effect a junction with Captain Heraugiere, another

of the distinguished malcontent defenders of Sluys, who was stationed,

with his command, at Delft, and then to re-enter Leyden, take possession

of the town-hall, arrest all the magistrates, together with Adrian van

der Werff, ex-burgomaster, and proclaim Lord Leicester, in the name of

Queen Elizabeth, legitimate master of the city. A list of burghers, who

were to be executed, was likewise agreed upon, at a final meeting of the

conspirators in a hostelry, which bore the ominous name of 'The

Thunderbolt.' A desire had been signified by Leicester, in the

preliminary interviews at Utrecht, that all bloodshed, if possible,

should be spared, but it was certainly an extravagant expectation,

considering the temper, the political convictions, and the known courage

of the Leyden burghers, that the city would submit, without a struggle,

to this invasion of all their rights. It could hardly be doubted that the

streets would run red with blood, as those of Antwerp had done, when a

similar attempt, on the part of Anjou, had been foiled.

Unfortunately for the scheme, a day or two before the great stroke was to

be hazarded, Cosmo de Pescarengis had been accidentally arrested for

debt. A subordinate accomplice, taking alarm, had then gone before the

magistrate and revealed the plot. Volmar and de Maulde fled at once, but

were soon arrested in the neighbourhood. President de Meetkerke,

Professor Saravia, the preacher Van der Wauw, and others most

compromised, effected their escape. The matter was instantly laid before

the States of Holland by the magistracy of Leyden, and seemed of the

gravest moment. In the beginning of the year, the fatal treason of York

and Stanley had implanted a deep suspicion of Leicester in the hearts of

almost all the Netherlanders, which could not be eradicated. The painful

rumours concerning the secret negotiations with Spain, and the design

falsely attributed to the English Queen, of selling the chief cities of

the republic to Philip as the price of peace, and of reimbursement for

expenses incurred by her, increased the general excitement to fever. It

was felt by the leaders of the States that as mortal a combat lay before

them with the Earl of Leicester, as with the King of Spain, and that it

was necessary to strike a severe blow, in order to vindicate their

imperilled authority.

A commission was appointed by the high court of Holland, acting in

conjunction with the States of the Provinces, to try the offenders. Among

the commissioners were Adrian van der Werff, John van der Does, who had

been military commandant of Leyden during the siege, Barneveld, and other

distinguished personages, over whom Count Maurice presided. The accused

were subjected to an impartial trial. Without torture, they confessed

their guilt. It is true, however, that Cosmo was placed within sight of

the rack. He avowed that his object had been to place the city under the

authority of Leicester, and to effect this purpose, if possible, without

bloodshed. He declared that the attempt was to be made with the full

knowledge and approbation of the Earl, who had promised him the command

of a regiment of twelve companies, as a recompense for his services, if

they proved successful. Leicester, said Cosmo, had also pledged himself,

in case the men, thus executing his plans, should be discovered and

endangered, to protect and rescue them, even at the sacrifice of all his

fortune, and of the office he held. When asked if he had any written

statement from his Excellency to that effect, Cosmo replied, no, nothing

but his princely word which he had voluntarily given.

Volmar made a similar confession. He, too, declared that he had acted

throughout the affair by express command of the Earl of Leicester. Being

asked if he had any written evidence of the fact, he, likewise, replied

in the negative. "Then his Excellency will unquestionably deny your

assertion," said the judges. "Alas, then am I a dead man," replied

Volmar, and the unfortunate deacon never spoke truer words. Captain de

Maulde also confessed his crime. He did not pretend, however, to have had

any personal communication with Leicester, but said that the affair had

been confided to him by Colonel Cosmo, on the express authority of the

Earl, and that he had believed himself to be acting in obedience to his

Excellency's commands.

On the 26th October, after a thorough investigation, followed by a full

confession on the part of the culprits, the three were sentenced to

death. The decree was surely a most severe one. They had been guilty of

no actual crime, and only in case of high treason could an intention to

commit a crime be considered, by the laws of the state, an offence

punishable with death. But it was exactly because it was important to

make the crime high treason that the prisoners were condemned. The

offence was considered as a crime not against Leyden, but as an attempt

to levy war upon a city which was a member of the States of Holland and

of the United States. If the States were sovereign, then this was a

lesion of their sovereignty. Moreover, the offence had been aggravated by

the employment of United States' troops against the commonwealth of the

United States itself. To cut off the heads of these prisoners was a sharp

practical answer to the claims of sovereignty by Leicester, as

representing the people, and a terrible warning to all who might, in

future; be disposed to revive the theories of Deventer and Burgrave.

In the case of De Maulde the punishment seemed especially severe. His

fate excited universal sympathy, and great efforts were made to obtain

his pardon. He was a universal favourite; he was young; he was very

handsome; his manners were attractive; he belonged to an ancient and

honourable race. His father, the Seigneur de Mansart, had done great

services in the war of independence, had been an intimate friend of the

great Prince of Orange, and had even advanced large sums of money to

assist his noble efforts to liberate the country. Two brothers of the

young captain had fallen in the service of the republic. He, too, had

distinguished himself at Ostend, and his gallantry during the recent

siege of Sluys had been in every mouth, and had excited the warm applause

of so good a judge of soldiership as the veteran Roger Williams. The

scars of the wounds received in the desperate conflicts of that siege

were fresh upon his breast. He had not intended to commit treason, but,

convinced by the sophistry of older soldiers than himself, as well as by

learned deacons and theologians, he had imagined himself doing his duty,

while obeying the Earl of Leicester. If there were ever a time for mercy,

this seemed one, and young Maurice of Nassau might have remembered, that

even in the case of the assassins who had attempted the life of his

father, that great-hearted man had lifted up his voice--which seemed his

dying one--in favour of those who had sought his life.

But they authorities were inexorable. There was no hope of a mitigation

of punishment, but a last effort was made, under favour of a singular

ancient custom, to save the life of De Maulde. A young lady of noble

family in Leyden--Uytenbroek by name--claimed the right of rescuing the

condemned malefactor, from the axe, by appearing upon the scaffold, and

offering to take him for her husband.

Intelligence was brought to the prisoner in his dungeon, that the young,

lady had made the proposition, and he was told to be of good cheer: But

he refused to be comforted. He was slightly acquainted with the

gentle-woman, he observed; and doubted much whether her request would be

granted. Moreover if contemporary chronicle can be trusted he even

expressed a preference for the scaffold, as the milder fate of the two.

The lady, however, not being aware of those uncomplimentary sentiments,

made her proposal to the magistrates, but was dismissed with harsh

rebukes. She had need be ashamed, they said; of her willingness to take a

condemned traitor for her husband. It was urged, in her behalf, that even

in the cruel Alva's time, the ancient custom had been respected, and that

victims had been saved from the executioners, on a demand in marriage

made even by women of abandoned character. But all was of no avail. The

prisoners were executed on the 26th October, the same day on which the

sentence had been pronounced. The heads of Volmar and Cosmo were exposed

on one of the turrets of the city. That of Maulde was interred with his

body.

The Earl was indignant when he heard of the event. As there had been no

written proof of his complicity in the conspiracy, the judges had thought

it improper to mention his name in the sentences. He, of course, denied

any knowledge of the plot, and its proof rested therefore only on the

assertion of the prisoners themselves, which, however, was

circumstantial, voluntary, and generally believed!

France, during the whole of this year of expectation, was ploughed

throughout its whole surface by perpetual civil war. The fatal edict of

June, 1585, had drowned the unhappy land in blood. Foreign armies, called

in by the various contending factions, ravaged its-fair territory,

butchered its peasantry, and changed its fertile plains to a wilderness.

The unhappy creature who wore the crown of Charlemagne and of Hugh Capet,

was but the tool in the hands of the most profligate and designing of his

own subjects, and of foreigners. Slowly and surely the net, spread by the

hands of his own mother, of his own prime minister, of the Duke of Guise,

all obeying the command and receiving the stipend of Philip, seemed

closing over him. He was without friends, without power to know his

friends, if he had them. In his hatred to the Reformation, he had allowed

himself to be made the enemy of the only man who could be his friend, or

the friend of France. Allied with his mortal foe, whose armies were

strengthened by contingents from Parma's forces, and paid for by Spanish

gold, he was forced to a mock triumph over the foreign mercenaries who

came to save his crown, and to submit to the defeat of the flower of his

chivalry, by the only man who could rescue France from ruin, and whom

France could look up to with respect.

For, on the 20th October, Henry of Navarre had at last gained a victory.

After twenty-seven years of perpetual defeat, during which they had been

growing stronger and stronger, the Protestants had met the picked troops

of Henry III., under the Due de Joyeuse, near the burgh of Contras. His

cousins Conde and Soissons each commanded a wing in the army of the

Warnese. "You are both of my family," said Henry, before the engagement,

"and the Lord so help me, but I will show you that I am the eldest born."

And during that bloody day the white plume was ever tossing where the

battle, was fiercest. "I choose to show myself. They shall see the

Bearnese," was his reply to those who implored him to have a care for his

personal safety. And at last, when the day was done, the victory gained,

and more French nobles lay dead on the field, as Catharine de' Medici

bitterly declared, than had fallen in a battle for twenty years; when two

thousand of the King's best troops had been slain, and when the bodies of

Joyeuse and his brother had been laid out in the very room where the

conqueror's supper, after the battle, was served, but where he refused,

with a shudder, to eat, he was still as eager as before--had the wretched

Valois been possessed of a spark of manhood, or of intelligence--to

shield him and his kingdom from the common enemy.'

For it could hardly be doubtful, even to Henry III., at that moment, that

Philip II. and his jackal, the Duke of Guise, were pursuing him to the

death, and that, in his breathless doublings to escape, he had been

forced to turn upon his natural protector. And now Joyeuse was defeated

and slain. "Had it been my brother's son," exclaimed Cardinal de Bourbon,

weeping and wailing, "how much better it would have been." It was not

easy to slay the champion of French Protestantism; yet, to one less

buoyant, the game, even after the brilliant but fruitless victory of

Contras, might have seemed desperate. Beggared and outcast, with

literally scarce a shirt to his back, without money to pay a corporal's

guard, how was he to maintain an army?

But 'Mucio' was more successful than Joyeuse had been, and the German and

Swiss mercenaries who had come across the border to assist the Bearnese,

were adroitly handled by Philip's great stipendiary. Henry of Valois,

whose troops had just been defeated at Contras, was now compelled to

participate in a more fatal series of triumphs. For alas, the victim had

tied himself to the apron-string of "Madam League," and was paraded by

her, in triumph, before the eyes of his own subjects and of the world.

The passage of the Loire by the auxiliaries was resisted; a series of

petty victories was gained by Guise, and, at last, after it was obvious

that the leaders of the legions had been corrupted with Spanish ducats,

Henry allowed them to depart, rather than give the Balafre opportunity

for still farther successes.

Then came the triumph in Paris--hosannahs in the churches, huzzas in the

public places--not for the King, but for Guise. Paris, more madly in love

with her champion than ever, prostrated herself at his feet. For him

paeans as to a deliverer. Without him the ark would have fallen into the

hands of the Philistines. For the Valois, shouts of scorn from the

populace, thunders from the pulpit, anathemas from monk and priest,

elaborate invectives from all the pedants of the Sorbonne, distant

mutterings of excommunication from Rome--not the toothless beldame of

modern days, but the avenging divinity of priest-rid monarchs. Such were

the results of the edicts of June. Spain and the Pope had trampled upon

France, and the populace in her capital clapped their hands and jumped

for joy. "Miserable country miserable King," sighed an illustrious

patriot, "whom his own countrymen wish rather to survive, than to die to

defend him! Let the name of Huguenot and of Papist be never heard of

more. Let us think only of the counter-league. Is France to be saved by

opening all its gates to Spain? Is France to be turned out of France, to

make a lodging for the Lorrainer and the Spaniard?" Pregnant questions,

which could not yet be answered, for the end was not yet. France was to

become still more and more a wilderness. And well did that same brave and

thoughtful lover, of his: country declare, that he who should suddenly

awake from a sleep of twenty-five years, and revisit that once beautiful

land, would deem himself transplanted to a barbarous island of

cannibals.--[Duplessis Mornay, 'Mem.' iv. 1-34.]

It had now become quite obvious that the game of Leicester was played

out. His career--as it has now been fully exhibited--could have but one

termination. He had made himself thoroughly odious to the nation whom he

came to govern. He had lost for ever the authority once spontaneously

bestowed; and he had attempted in vain, both by fair means and foul, to

recover that power. There was nothing left him but retreat. Of this he

was thoroughly convinced. He was anxious to be gone, the republic most

desirous to be rid of him, her Majesty impatient to have her favourite

back again. The indulgent Queen, seeing nothing to blame in his conduct,

while her indignation, at the attitude maintained by the Provinces was

boundless, permitted him, accordingly, to return; and in her letter to

the States, announcing this decision, she took a fresh opportunity of

emptying her wrath upon their heads.

She told them, that, notwithstanding her frequent messages to them,

signifying her evil contentment with their unthankfulness for her

exceeding great benefits, and with their gross violations of their

contract with herself and with Leicester, whom they had, of their own

accord, made absolute governor without her instigation; she had never

received any good answer to move, her to commit their sins to oblivion,

nor had she remarked, any amendment in their conduct. On the contrary,

she complained: that they daily increased their offences, most

notoriously in the sight of--the world and in so many points that she

lacked words to express them in one letter. She however thought it worth

while to allude to some of their transgressions. She, declared that their

sinister, or rather barbarous interpretation of her conduct had been

notorious in perverting and falsifying her princely and Christian

intentions; when she imparted to them the overtures that had been made to

her for a treaty of peace for herself and for them with the King of

Spain. Yet although she had required their allowance, before she would

give her assent, she had been grieved that the world should see what

impudent untruths had been forged upon her, not only by their

sufferance; but by their special permission for her Christian good

meaning towards them. She denounced the statements as to her having

concluded a treaty, not only without their knowledge; but with the

sacrifice of their liberty and religion, as utterly false, either for

anything done in act, or intended in thought, by her. She complained that

upon this most false ground had been heaped a number of like untruths and

malicious slanders against her cousin Leicester, who had hazarded his

life, spend his substance, left his native country, absented himself from

her, and lost his time, only for their service. It had been falsely

stated among them, she said, that the Earl had come over the last time,

knowing that peace had been secretly concluded. It was false that he had

intended to surprise divers of their towns, and deliver them to the King

of Spain. All such untruths contained matter so improbable, that it was

most, strange that any person; having any sense, could imagine them

correct. Having thus slightly animadverted upon their wilfulness,

unthankfulness, and bad government, and having, in very plain English,

given them the lie, eight distinct and separate times upon a single page,

she proceeded to inform them that she had recalled her cousin Leicester,

having great cause to use his services in England, and not seeing how, by

his tarrying there, he could either profit them or herself. Nevertheless

she protested herself not void of compassion for their estate, and for

the pitiful condition of the great multitude of kind and godly people,

subject to the miseries which, by the States government, were like to

fall upon them, unless God should specially interpose; and she had

therefore determined, for the time, to continue her subsidies, according

to the covenant between them. If, meantime, she should conclude a peace

with Spain, she promised to them the same care for their country as for

her own.

Accordingly the Earl, after despatching an equally ill-tempered letter to

the States, in which he alluded, at unmerciful length, to all the old

grievances, blamed them for the loss of Sluys, for which place he

protested that they had manifested no more interest than if it had been

San Domingo in Hispaniola, took his departure for Flushing. After

remaining there, in a very moody frame of mind, for several days,

expecting that the States would, at least, send a committee to wait upon

him and receive his farewells, he took leave of them by letter. "God send

me shortly a wind to blow me from them all," he exclaimed--a prayer which

was soon granted--and before the end of the year he was safely landed in

England. "These legs of mine," said he, clapping his hands upon them as

he sat in his chamber at Margate, "shall never go again into Holland. Let

the States get others to serve their mercenary turn, for me they shall

not have." Upon giving up the government, he caused a medal to be struck

in his own honour. The device was a flock of sheep watched by an English

mastiff. Two mottoes--"non gregem aed ingratos," and "invitus

desero"--expressed his opinion of Dutch ingratitude and his own fidelity.

The Hollanders, on their part, struck several medals to commemorate the

same event, some of which were not destitute of invention. Upon one of

them, for instance, was represented an ape smothering her young ones to

death in her embrace, with the device, "Libertas ne its chara ut simiae

catuli;" while upon the reverse was a man avoiding smoke and falling into

the fire, with the inscription, "Fugiens fumum, incidit in ignem."

Leicester found the usual sunshine at Greenwich. All the efforts of

Norris, Wilkes, and Buckhurst, had been insufficient to raise even a

doubt in Elizabeth's mind as to the wisdom and integrity by which his

administration of the Provinces had been characterised from beginning to

end. Those who had appealed from his hatred to the justice of their

sovereign, had met with disgrace and chastisement. But for the great

Earl; the Queen's favour was a rock of adamant. At a private interview he

threw himself at her feet, and with tears and sobs implored her not to

receive him in disgrace whom she had sent forth in honour. His

blandishments prevailed, as they had always done. Instead, therefore, of

appearing before the council, kneeling, to answer such inquiries as ought

surely to have been instituted, he took his seat boldly among his

colleagues, replying haughtily to all murmurs by a reference to her

Majesty's secret instructions.

The unhappy English soldiers, who had gone forth under his banner in

midsummer, had been returning, as they best might, in winter, starving,

half-naked wretches, to beg a morsel of bread at the gates of Greenwich

palace, and to be driven away as vagabonds, with threats of the stock.

This was not the fault of the Earl, for he had fed them with his own

generous hand in the Netherlands, week after week, when no money for

their necessities could be obtained from the paymasters. Two thousand

pounds had been sent by Elizabeth to her soldiers when sixty-four

thousand pounds arrearage were due, and no language could exaggerate the

misery to which these outcasts, according to eye-witnesses of their own

nation, were reduced.

Lord Willoughby was appointed to the command, of what remained of these

unfortunate troops, upon--the Earl's departure. The sovereignty of the

Netherlands remained undisputed with the States. Leicester resigned his,

commission by an instrument dated 17/27 December, which, however, never

reached the Netherlands till April of the following year. From that time

forth the government of the republic maintained the same forms which the

assembly had claimed for it in the long controversy with the

governor-general, and which have been sufficiently described.

Meantime the negotiations for a treaty, no longer secret, continued. The

Queen; infatuated as ever, still believed in the sincerity of Farnese,

while that astute personage and his master were steadily maturing their

schemes. A matrimonial alliance was secretly projected between the King

of Scots and Philip's daughter, the Infants Isabella, with the consent of

the Pope and the whole college of cardinals; and James, by the whole

force of the Holy League, was to be placed upon the throne of Elizabeth.

In the case of his death, without issue, Philip was to succeed quietly to

the crowns of England, Scotland, and Ireland. Nothing could be simpler or

more rational, and accordingly these arrangements were the table-talk at

Rome, and met with general approbation.

Communications to this effect; coming straight from the Colonna palace,

were thought sufficiently circumstantial to be transmitted to the English

government. Maurice of Nassau wrote with his own hand to Walsingham,

professing a warm attachment to the cause in which Holland and England

were united, and perfect personal devotion to the English Queen.

His language, was not that of a youth, who, according to Leicester's

repeated insinuations, was leagued with the most distinguished soldiers

and statesmen of the Netherlands to sell their country to Spain.

But Elizabeth was not to be convinced. She thought it extremely probable

that the Provinces would be invaded, and doubtless felt some anxiety for

England. It was unfortunate that the possession of Sluys had given

Alexander such a point of vantage; and there was moreover, a fear that he

might take possession of Ostend. She had, therefore, already recommended

that her own troops should be removed from that city, that its walls

should be razed; its marine bulwarks destroyed, and that the ocean.

should be let in to swallow the devoted city forever--the inhabitants

having been previously allowed to take their departure. For it was

assumed by her Majesty that to attempt resistance would be idle, and that

Ostend could never stand a siege.

The advice was not taken; and before the end of her reign Elizabeth was

destined to see this indefensible city--only fit, in her judgment, to be

abandoned to the waves--become memorable; throughout all time, for the

longest; and, in many respects, the most remarkable siege which modern

history has recorded, the famous leaguer, in which the first European

captains of the coming age were to take their lessons, year after year,

in the school of the great Dutch soldier, who was now but a "solemn, sly

youth," just turned of twenty.

The only military achievement which characterized the close of the year,

to the great satisfaction of the Provinces and the annoyance of Parma,

was the surprise of the city of Bonn. The indefatigable Martin Schenk--in

fulfilment of his great contract with the States-General, by which the

war on the Rhine had been farmed out to him on such profitable

terms:--had led his mercenaries against this important town. He had found

one of its gates somewhat insecurely guarded, placed a mortar under it at

night, and occupied a neighbouring pig-stye with a number of his men, who

by chasing, maltreating, and slaughtering the swine, had raised an

unearthly din, sufficient to drown the martial operations at the gate. In

brief, the place was easily mastered, and taken possession of by Martin,

in the name of the deposed elector, Gebhard Truchsess--the first stroke

of good fortune which had for a long time befallen that melancholy

prelate.

The administration of Leicester has been so minutely pictured, that it

would be superfluous to indulge in many concluding reflections. His acts

and words have been made to speak for themselves. His career in the

country has been described with much detail, because the period was a

great epoch of transition. The republic of the Netherlands, during those

years, acquired consistency and permanent form. It seemed possible, on

the Earl's first advent, that the Provinces might become part and parcel

of the English realm. Whether such a consummation would have been

desirable or not, is a fruitless enquiry. But it is certain that the

selection of such a man as Leicester made that result impossible.

Doubtless there were many errors committed by all parties. The Queen was

supposed by the Netherlands to be secretly desirous of accepting the

sovereignty of the Provinces, provided she were made sure, by the Earl's

experience, that they were competent to protect themselves. But this

suspicion was unfounded. The result of every investigation showed the

country so full of resources, of wealth, and of military and naval

capabilities, that, united with England, it would have been a source of

great revenue and power, not a burthen and an expense. Yet, when

convinced of such facts, by the statistics which were liberally laid

before her by her confidential agents, she never manifested, either in

public or private, any intention of accepting the sovereignty. This being

her avowed determination, it was an error on the part of the States,

before becoming thoroughly acquainted with the man's character, to confer

upon Leicester the almost boundless authority which they granted on, his

first arrival. It was a still graver mistake, on the part of Elizabeth,

to give way to such explosions of fury, both against the governor and the

States, when informed of the offer and acceptance of that authority. The

Earl, elevated by the adulation of others, and by his own vanity, into an

almost sovereign attitude, saw himself chastised before the world, like

an aspiring lackey, by her in whose favour he had felt most secure. He

found, himself, in an instant, humbled and ridiculous. Between himself

and the Queen it was, something of a lovers' quarrel, and he soon found

balsam in the hand that smote him. But though reinstated in authority, he

was never again the object of reverence in the land he was attempting to

rule. As he came to know the Netherlanders better, he recognized the

great capacity which their statesmen concealed under a plain and

sometimes a plebeian exterior, and the splendid grandee hated, where at

first he had only despised. The Netherlanders, too, who had been used to

look up almost with worship to a plain man of kindly manners, in felt hat

and bargeman's woollen jacket, whom they called "Father William," did not

appreciate, as they ought, the magnificence of the stranger who had been

sent to govern them. The Earl was handsome, quick-witted, brave; but he

was, neither wise in council nor capable in the field. He was intolerably

arrogant, passionate, and revengeful. He hated easily, and he hated for

life. It was soon obvious that no cordiality of feeling or of action

could exist between him and the plain, stubborn Hollanders. He had the

fatal characteristic of loving only the persons who flattered him. With

much perception of character, sense of humour, and appreciation of

intellect, he recognized the power of the leading men in the nation, and

sought to gain them. So long as he hoped success, he was loud in their

praises. They were all wise, substantial, well-languaged, big fellows,

such as were not to be found in England or anywhere else. When they

refused to be made his tools, they became tinkers, boors, devils, and

atheists. He covered them with curses and devoted them to the gibbet. He

began by warmly commending Buys and Barneveld, Hohenlo and Maurice, and

endowing them with every virtue. Before he left the country he had

accused them of every crime, and would cheerfully, if he could, have

taken the life of every one of them. And it was quite the same with

nearly every Englishman who served with or under him. Wilkes and

Buckhurst, however much the objects of his previous esteem; so soon as

they ventured to censure or even to criticise his proceedings, were at

once devoted to perdition. Yet, after minute examination of the record,

public and private, neither Wilkes nor Buckhurst can be found guilty of

treachery or animosity towards him, but are proved to have been governed,

in all their conduct, by a strong sense of duty to their sovereign, the

Netherlands, and Leicester himself.

To Sir John Norris, it must be allowed, that he was never fickle, for he

had always entertained for that distinguished general an honest,

unswerving, and infinite hatred, which was not susceptible of increase or

diminution by any act or word. Pelham, too, whose days were numbered, and

who was dying bankrupt and broken-hearted, at the close of the Earl's

administration, had always been regarded by him with tenderness and

affection. But Pelham had never thwarted him, had exposed his life for

him, and was always proud of being his faithful, unquestioning, humble

adherent. With perhaps this single exception, Leicester found himself at

the end of his second term in the Provinces, without a single friend and

with few respectable partisans. Subordinate mischievous intriguers like

Deventer, Junius, and Otheman, were his chief advisers and the

instruments of his schemes.

With such qualifications it was hardly possible--even if the current of

affairs had been flowing smoothly--that he should prove a successful

governor of the new republic. But when the numerous errors and

adventitious circumstances are considered--for some of which he was

responsible, while of others he was the victim--it must be esteemed

fortunate that no great catastrophe occurred. His immoderate elevation;

his sudden degradation, his controversy in regard to the sovereignty, his

abrupt departure for England, his protracted absence, his mistimed

return, the secret instructions for his second administration, the

obstinate parsimony and persistent ill-temper of the Queen--who, from the

beginning to the end of the Earl's government, never addressed a kindly

word to the Netherlanders, but was ever censuring and brow beating them

in public state-papers and private epistles--the treason of York and

Stanley, above all, the disastrous and concealed negotiations with Parma,

and the desperate attempts upon Amsterdam and Leyden--all placed him in a

most unfortunate position from first to last. But he was not competent

for his post under any circumstances. He was not the statesman to deal in

policy with Buys, Barneveld, Ortel, Sainte Aldegonde; nor the soldier to

measure himself against Alexander Farnese. His administration was a

failure; and although he repeatedly hazarded his life, and poured out his

wealth in their behalf with an almost unequalled liberality, he could

never gain the hearts of the Netherlanders. English valour, English

intelligence, English truthfulness, English generosity, were endearing

England more and more to Holland. The statesmen of both countries were

brought into closest union, and learned to appreciate and to respect each

other, while they recognized that the fate of their respective

commonwealths was indissolubly united. But it was to the efforts of

Walsingham, Drake, Raleigh, Wilkes, Buckburst, Norris, Willoughby,

Williams, Vere, Russell, and the brave men who fought under their banners

or their counsels, on every battle-field, and in every beleaguered town

in the Netherlands, and to the universal spirit and sagacity of the

English nation, in this grand crisis of its fate, that these fortunate

results were owing; not to the Earl of Leicester, nor--during the term of

his administration--to Queen Elizabeth herself.

In brief, the proper sphere of this remarkable personage, and the one in

which he passed the greater portion of his existence, was that of a

magnificent court favourite, the spoiled darling, from youth to his

death-bed, of the great English Queen; whether to the advantage or not of

his country and the true interests of his sovereign, there can hardly be

at this day any difference of opinion.

ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

Act of Uniformity required Papists to assist

As lieve see the Spanish as the Calvinistic inquisition

Elizabeth (had not) the faintest idea of religious freedom

God, whose cause it was, would be pleased to give good weather

Heretics to the English Church were persecuted

Look for a sharp war, or a miserable peace

Loving only the persons who flattered him

Not many more than two hundred Catholics were executed

Only citadel against a tyrant and a conqueror was distrust

Stake or gallows (for) heretics to transubstantiation

States were justified in their almost unlimited distrust

Undue anxiety for impartiality

Wealthy Papists could obtain immunity by an enormous fine

HISTORY OF THE UNITED NETHERLANDS

From the Death of William the Silent to the Twelve Year's Truce--1609

By John Lothrop Motley

History United Netherlands, Volume 55, 1588