When at last the resignation of Leicester--presented to the States by

Killegrew on the 31st March--seemed to promise comparative repose to the

republic, the vexation of the Leicestrians was intense. Their efforts to

effect a dissolution of the government had been rendered unsuccessful,

when success seemed within their grasp. "Albeit what is once executed

cannot be prevented," said Captain Champernoun; "yet 'tis thought certain

that if the resignation of Lord Leicester's commission had been deferred

yet some little time; the whole country and towns would have so revolted

and mutinied against the government and authority of the States, as that

they should have had no more credit given them by the people than pleased

her Majesty. Most part of the people could see--in consequence of the

troubles, discontent, mutiny of garrisons, and the like, that it was most

necessary for the good success of their affairs that the power of the

States should be abolished, and the whole government of his Excellency

erected. As these matters were busily working into the likelihood of some

good effect, came the resignation of his Excellency's commission and

authority, which so dashed the proceedings of it, as that all people and

commanders well affected unto her Majesty and my Lord of Leicester are

utterly discouraged. The States, with their adherents, before they had

any Lord's resignations were much perplexed what course to take, but now

begin to hoist their heads." The excellent Leicestrian entertained hopes,

however; that mutiny and intrigue might still carry the day. He had seen

the fat militiaman of Naarden and other captains, and, hoped much

mischief from their schemes. "The chief mutineers of Gertruydenberg," he

said, "maybe wrought to send unto 'the States, that if they do not

procure them some English governor, they will compound with the enemy,

whereon the States shall be driven to request her Majesty to accept the

place, themselves entertaining the garrison. I know certain captains

discontented with the States for arrears of pay, who will contrive to get

into Naarden with their companies, with the States consent, who, once

entered, will keep the place for their satisfaction, pay their soldiers

out of the contributions of the country; and yet secretly hold the place

at her Majesty's command."

This is not an agreeable picture; yet it is but one out of many examples

of the intrigues by which Leicester and his party were doing their best

to destroy the commonwealth of the Netherlands at a moment when its

existence was most important to that of England.

To foment mutiny in order to subvert the authority of Maurice, was not a

friendly or honourable course of action either towards Holland or

England; and it was to play into the hands of Philip as adroitly as his

own stipendiaries could have done.

With mischief-makers like Champernoun in every city, and with such

diplomatists at Ostend as Croft and Ropers and Valentine Dale, was it

wonderful that the King and the Duke of Parma found time to mature their

plans for the destruction of both countries?

Lord Willoughby, too, was extremely dissatisfied with his own position.

He received no commission from the Queen for several months. When it at

last reached him, it seemed inadequate, and he became more sullen than

ever. He declared that he would rather serve the Queen as a private

soldier, at his own expense--"lean as his purse was"--than accept the

limited authority conferred on him. He preferred to show his devotion "in

a beggarly state, than in a formal show." He considered it beneath her

Majesty's dignity that he should act in the field under the States, but

his instructions forbade his acceptance of any office from that body but

that of general in their service. He was very discontented, and more

anxious than ever to be rid of his functions. Without being extremely

ambitious, he was impatient of control. He desired not "a larger-shaped

coat," but one that fitted him better. "I wish to shape my garment

homely, after my cloth," he said, "that the better of my parish may not

be misled by my sumptuousness. I would live quietly, without great noise,

my poor roof low and near the ground, not subject to be overblown with

unlooked-for storms, while the sun seems most shining."

Being the deadly enemy of the States and their leaders, it was a matter

of course that he should be bitter against Maurice. That young Prince,

bold, enterprising, and determined, as he was, did not ostensibly meddle

with political affairs more than became his years; but he accepted the

counsels of the able statesmen in whom his father had trusted. Riding,

hunting, and hawking, seemed to be his chief delight at the Hague, in the

intervals of military occupations. He rarely made his appearance in the

state-council during the winter, and referred public matters to the

States-General, to the States of Holland, to Barneveld, Buys, and

Hohenlo. Superficial observers like George Gilpin regarded him as a

cipher; others, like Robert Cecil, thought him an unmannerly schoolboy;

but Willoughby, although considering him insolent and conceited, could

not deny his ability. The peace partisans among the burghers--a very

small faction--were furious against him, for they knew that Maurice of

Nassau represented war. They accused of deep designs against the

liberties of their country the youth who was ever ready to risk his life

in their defence. A burgomaster from Friesland, who had come across the

Zuyder Zee to intrigue against the States' party, was full of spleen at

being obliged to dance attendance for a long time at the Hague. He

complained that Count Maurice, green of years, and seconded by greener

counsellors, was meditating the dissolution of the state-council, the

appointment of a new board from his own creatures, the overthrow of all

other authority, and the assumption of the sovereignty of Holland and

Zeeland, with absolute power. "And when this is done;" said the rueful

burgomaster, "he and his turbulent fellows may make what terms they like

with Spain, to the disadvantage of the Queen and of us poor wretches."

But there was nothing farther from the thoughts of the turbulent fellows

than any negotiations with Spain. Maurice was ambitious enough, perhaps,

but his ambition ran in no such direction. Willoughby knew better; and

thought that by humouring the petulant young man it might be possible to

manage him.

"Maurice is young," he said, "hot-headed; coveting honour. If we do but

look at him through our fingers, without much words, but with providence

enough, baiting his hook a little to his appetite, there is no doubt but

he might be caught and kept in a fish-pool; while in his imagination he

may judge it a sea. If not, 'tis likely he will make us fish in troubled

waters."

Maurice was hardly the fish for a mill-pond even at that epoch, and it

might one day be seen whether or not he could float in the great ocean of

events. Meanwhile, he swam his course without superfluous gambols or

spoutings.

The commander of her Majesty's forces was not satisfied with the States,

nor their generals, nor their politicians. "Affairs are going 'a malo in

pejus,'" he said. "They embrace their liberty as apes their young. To

this end are Counts Hollock and Maurice set upon the stage to entertain

the popular sort. Her Majesty and my Lord of Leicester are not forgotten.

The Counts are in Holland, especially Hollock, for the other is but the

cipher. And yet I can assure you Maurice hath wit and spirit too much for

his time."

As the troubles of the interregnum increased Willoughby was more

dissatisfied than ever with the miserable condition of the Provinces, but

chose to ascribe it to the machinations of the States' party, rather than

to the ambiguous conduct of Leicester. "These evils," he said, "are

especially, derived from the childish ambition of the young Count

Maurice, from the covetous and furious counsels of the proud Hollanders,

now chief of the States-General, and, if with pardon it may be said, from

our slackness and coldness to entertain our friends. The provident and

wiser sort--weighing what a slender ground the appetite of a young man

is, unfurnished with the sinews of war to manage so great a cause--for a

good space after my Lord of Leicester's departure, gave him far looking

on, to see him play has part on the stage."

Willoughby's spleen caused him to mix his metaphors more recklessly than

strict taste would warrant, but his violent expressions painted the

relative situation of parties more vividly than could be done by a calm

disquisition. Maurice thus playing his part upon the stage--as the

general proceeded to observe--"was a skittish horse, becoming by little

and little assured of what he had feared, and perceiving the harmlessness

thereof; while his companions, finding no safety of neutrality in so

great practices, and no overturning nor barricado to stop his rash wilded

chariot, followed without fear; and when some of the first had passed the

bog; the rest, as the fashion is, never started after. The variable

democracy; embracing novelty, began to applaud their prosperity; the base

and lewdest sorts of men, to whom there is nothing more agreeable than

change of estates, is a better monture to degrees than their merit, took

present hold thereof. Hereby Paul Buys, Barneveld, and divers others, who

were before mantled with a tolerable affection, though seasoned with a

poisoned intention, caught the occasion, and made themselves the

Beelzebubs of all these mischiefs, and, for want of better angels, spared

not to let fly our golden-winged ones in the name of guilders, to prepare

the hearts and hands that hold money more dearer than honesty, of which

sort, the country troubles and the Spanish practices having suckled up

many, they found enough to serve their purpose. As the breach is safely

saltable where no defence is made, so they, finding no head, but those

scattered arms that were disavowed, drew the sword with Peter, and gave

pardon with the Pope, as you shall plainly perceive by the proceedings at

Horn. Thus their force; fair words, or corruption, prevailing everywhere,

it grew to this conclusion--that the worst were encouraged with their

good success, and the best sort assured of no fortune or favour."

Out of all this hubbub of stage-actors, skittish horses, rash wilded

chariots, bogs, Beelzebubs, and golden-winged angels, one truth was

distinctly audible; that Beelzebub, in the shape of Barneveld, had been

getting the upper hand in the Netherlands, and that the Lecestrians were

at a disadvantage. In truth those partisans were becoming extremely

impatient. Finding themselves deserted by their great protector, they

naturally turned their eyes towards Spain, and were now threatening to

sell themselves to Philip. The Earl, at his departure, had given them

privately much encouragement. But month after month had passed by while

they were waiting in vain for comfort. At last the "best"--that is to

say, the unhappy Leicestrians--came to Willoughby, asking his advice in

their "declining and desperate cause."

"Well nigh a month longer," said that general, "I nourished them with

compliments, and assured them that my Lord of Leicester would take care

of them." The diet was not fattening. So they began to grumble more

loudly than ever, and complained with great bitterness of the miserable

condition in which they had been left by the Earl, and expressed their

fears lest the Queen likewise meant to abandon them. They protested that

their poverty, their powerful foes, and their slow friends, would compel

them either to make their peace with the States' party, or "compound with

the enemy."

It would have seemed that real patriots, under such circumstances, would

hardly hesitate in their choice, and would sooner accept the dominion of

"Beelzebub," or even Paul Buys, than that of Philip II. But the

Leicestrians of Utrecht and Friesland--patriots as they were--hated

Holland worse than they hated the Inquisition. Willoughby encouraged them

in that hatred. He assured him of her Majesty's affection for them,

complained of the factious proceedings of the States, and alluded to the

unfavourable state of the weather, as a reason why--near four months

long--they had not received the comfort out of England which they had a

right to expect. He assured them that neither the Queen nor Leicester

would conclude this honourable action, wherein much had been hazarded,

"so rawly and tragically" as they seemed to fear, and warned them, that

"if they did join with Holland, it would neither ease nor help them, but

draw them into a more dishonourable loss of their liberties; and that,

after having wound them in, the Hollanders would make their own peace

with the enemy."

It seemed somewhat unfair-while the Queen's government was straining

every nerve to obtain a peace from Philip, and while the Hollanders were

obstinately deaf to any propositions for treating--that Willoughby should

accuse them of secret intentions to negotiate. But it must be confessed

that faction has rarely worn a more mischievous aspect than was presented

by the politics of Holland and England in the winter and spring of 1588.

Young Maurice was placed in a very painful position. He liked not to be

"strangled in the great Queen's embrace;" but he felt most keenly the

necessity of her friendship, and the importance to both countries of a

close alliance. It was impossible for him, however, to tolerate the

rebellion of Sonoy, although Sonoy was encouraged by Elizabeth, or to fly

in the face of Barneveld, although Barneveld was detested by Leicester.

So with much firmness and courtesy, notwithstanding the extravagant

pictures painted by Willoughby, he suppressed mutiny in Holland, while

avowing the most chivalrous attachment to the sovereign of England.

Her Majesty expressed her surprise and her discontent, that,

notwithstanding his expressions of devotion to herself, he should thus

deal with Sonoy, whose only crime was an equal devotion. "If you do not

behave with more moderation in future," she said, "you may believe that

we are not a princess of so little courage as not to know how to lend a

helping hand to those who are unjustly oppressed. We should be sorry if

we had cause to be disgusted with your actions, and if we were compelled

to make you a stranger to the ancient good affection which we bore to

your late father, and have continued towards yourself."

But Maurice maintained a dignified attitude, worthy of his great father's

name. He was not the man to crouch like Leicester, when he could no

longer refresh himself in the "shadow of the Queen's golden beams,"

important as he knew her friendship to be to himself and his country. So

he defended himself in a manly letter to the privy council against the

censures of Elizabeth. He avowed his displeasure, that, within his own

jurisdiction, Sonoy should give a special oath of obedience to Leicester;

a thing never done before in the country, and entirely illegal. It would

not even be tolerated in England, he said, if a private gentleman should

receive a military appointment in Warwickshire or Norfolk without the

knowledge of the lord-lieutenant of the shire. He had treated the

contumacious Sonoy with mildness during a long period, but without

effect. He had abstained from violence towards him, out of reverence to

the Queen, under whose sacred name he sheltered himself. Sonoy had not

desisted, but had established himself in organized rebellion at

Medenblik, declaring that he would drown the whole country, and levy

black-mail upon its whole property, if he were not paid one hundred

thousand crowns. He had declared that he would crush Holland like a glass

beneath his feet. Having nothing but religion in his mouth, and

protecting himself with the Queen's name, he had been exciting all the

cities of North Holland to rebellion, and bringing the poor people to

destruction. He had been offered money enough to satisfy the most

avaricious soldier in the world, but he stood out for six years' full pay

for his soldiers, a demand with which it was impossible to comply. It was

necessary to prevent him from inundating the land and destroying the

estates of the country gentlemen and the peasants. "This gentlemen," said

Maurice, "is the plain truth; nor do I believe that you will sustain

against me a man who was under such vast obligations to my late father,

and who requites his debt by daring to speak of myself as a rascal; or

that you will countenance his rebellion against a country to which he

brought only, his cloak and sword, and, whence he has filched one hundred

thousand crowns. You will not, I am sure, permit a simple captain, by his

insubordination to cause such mischief, and to set on fire this and other

Provinces.

"If, by your advice," continued the Count; "the Queen should appoint

fitting' personages to office here--men who know what honour is; born of

illustrious and noble-race, or who by their great virtue have been

elevated to the honours of the kingdom--to them I will render an account

of my actions. And it shall appear that I have more ability and more

desire to do my duty, to her Majesty than those who render her

lip-service only, and only make use of her sacred name to fill their

purses, while I and, mine have been ever ready to employ our lives, and

what remains of our fortunes, in the cause of God, her Majesty, and our

country."

Certainly no man had a better right: to speak with consciousness of the

worth of race than the son of William the Silent, the nephew of Lewis,

Adolphus, and Henry of Nassau, who had all laid down their lives for the

liberty of their country. But Elizabeth continued to threaten the

States-General, through the mouth of Willoughby, with the loss of her

protection, if they should continue thus to requite her favours with

ingratitude and insubordination: and Maurice once more respectfully but

firmly replied that Sonoy's rebellion could not and would not be

tolerated; appealing boldly to her sense of justice, which was the

noblest attribute of kings.

At last the Queen informed Willoughby, that--as the cause of Sonoy's

course seemed to be his oath of obedience to Leicester, whose resignation

of office had not yet been received in the Netherlands--she had now

ordered Councillor Killigrew to communicate the fact of that resignation.

She also wrote to Sonoy, requiring him to obey the States and Count

Maurice, and to accept a fresh commission from them, or at least to

surrender Medenblik, and to fulfil all their orders with zeal and

docility.

This act of abdication by Leicester, which had been received on the 22nd

of January by the English envoy, Herbert, at the moment of his departure

from the Netherlands, had been carried back by him to England, on the

ground that its communication to the States at that moment would cause

him inconveniently to postpone his journey. It never officially reached

the States-General until the 31st of March, so that this most dangerous

crisis was protracted nearly five months long--certainly without

necessity or excuse--and whether through design, malice, wantonness, or

incomprehensible carelessness, it is difficult to say.

So soon as the news reached Sonoy, that contumacious chieftain found his

position untenable, and he allowed the States' troops to take possession

of Medenblik, and with it the important territory of North Holland.

Maurice now saw himself undisputed governor. Sonoy was in the course of

the summer deprived of all office, and betook himself to England. Here he

was kindly received by the Queen, who bestowed upon him a ruined tower,

and a swamp among the fens of Lincolnshire. He brought over some of his

countrymen, well-skilled in such operations, set himself to draining and

dyking, and hoped to find himself at home and comfortable in his ruined

tower. But unfortunately, as neither he nor his wife, notwithstanding

their English proclivities, could speak a word of the language; they

found their social enjoyments very limited. Moreover, as his work-people

were equally without the power of making their wants understood, the

dyking operations made but little progress. So the unlucky colonel soon

abandoned his swamp, and retired to East Friesland, where he lived a

morose and melancholy life on a pension of one thousand florins, granted

him by the States of Holland, until the year 1597, when he lost his mind,

fell into the fire, and thus perished.

And thus; in the Netherlands, through hollow negotiations between enemies

and ill-timed bickerings among friends, the path of Philip and Parma had

been made comparatively smooth during the spring and early summer of

1588. What was the aspect of affairs in Germany and France?

The adroit capture of Bonn by Martin Schenk had given much trouble. Parma

was obliged to detach a strong force; under Prince Chimay, to attempt the

recovery of that important place, which--so long as it remained in the

power of the States--rendered the whole electorate insecure and a source

of danger to the Spanish party. Farnese endeavoured in vain to win back

the famous partizan by most liberal offers, for he felt bitterly the

mistake he had made in alienating so formidable a freebooter. But the

truculent Martin remained obdurate and irascible. Philip, much offended

that the news of his decease had proved false, ordered rather than

requested the Emperor Rudolph to have a care that nothing was done in

Germany to interfere with the great design upon England. The King gave

warning that he would suffer no disturbance from that quarter, but

certainly the lethargic condition of Germany rendered such threats

superfluous. There were riders enough, and musketeers enough, to be sold

to the highest bidder. German food for powder was offered largely in the

market to any foreign consumer, for the trade in their subjects', lives

was ever a prolific source of revenue to the petty sovereigns--numerous

as the days of the year--who owned Germany and the Germans.

The mercenaries who had so recently been, making their inglorious

campaign in France had been excluded from that country at the close of

1587, and furious were the denunciations of the pulpits and the populace

of Paris that the foreign brigands who had been devastating the soil of

France, and attempting to oppose the decrees of the Holy Father of Rome,

should; have made their escape so easily. Rabid Lincestre and other

priests and monks foamed with rage, as they execrated and anathematized

the devil-worshipper Henry of Valois, in all the churches of that

monarch's capital. The Spanish ducats were flying about, more profusely

than ever, among the butchers and porters, and fishwomen, of the great

city; and Madam League paraded herself in the day-light with still

increasing insolence. There was scarcely a pretence at recognition of any

authority, save that of Philip and Sixtus. France had become a

wilderness--an uncultivated, barbarous province of Spain. Mucio--Guise

had been secretly to Rome, had held interviews with the Pope and

cardinals, and had come back with a sword presented by his Holiness, its

hilt adorned with jewels, and its blade engraved with tongues of fire.

And with this flaming sword the avenging messenger of the holy father was

to smite the wicked, and to drive them into outer darkness.

And there had been fresh conferences among the chiefs of the sacred

League within the Lorraine territory, and it was resolved to require of

the Valois an immediate extermination of heresy and heretics throughout

the kingdom, the publication of the Council of Trent, and the formal

establishment of the Holy Inquisition in every province of France. Thus,

while doing his Spanish master's bidding, the great Lieutenant of the

league might, if he was adroit enough, to outwit Philip, ultimately carve

out a throne for himself.

Yet Philip felt occasional pangs of uneasiness lest there should, after

all, be peace in France, and lest his schemes against Holland and England

might be interfered with from that quarter. Even Farnese, nearer the

scene, could, not feel completely secure that a sudden reconciliation

among contending factions might not give rise to a dangerous inroad

across the Flemish border. So Guise was plied more vigourously than ever

by the Duke with advice and encouragement, and assisted with such Walloon

carabineers as could be spared, while large subsidies and larger promises

came from Philip, whose prudent policy was never to pay excessive sums,

until the work contracted for was done. "Mucio must do the job long since

agreed upon," said Philip to Farnese, "and you and Mendoza must see that

he prevents the King of France from troubling me in my enterprize against

England." If the unlucky Henry III. had retained one spark of

intelligence, he would have seen that his only chance of rescue lay in

the arm of the Bearnese, and in an honest alliance with England. Yet so

strong was his love for the monks, who were daily raving against him,

that he was willing to commit any baseness, in order to win back their

affection. He was ready to exterminate heresy and to establish the

inquisition, but he was incapable of taking energetic measures of any

kind, even when throne and life were in imminent peril. Moreover, he

clung to Epernon and the 'politiques,' in whose swords he alone found

protection, and he knew that Epernon and the 'politiques' were the

objects of horror to Paris and to the League. At the same time he looked

imploringly towards England and towards the great Huguenot chieftain,

Elizabeth's knight-errant. He had a secret interview with Sir Edward

Stafford, in the garden of the Bernardino convent, and importuned that

envoy to implore the Queen to break off her negotiations with Philip, and

even dared to offer the English ambassador a large reward, if such a

result could be obtained. Stafford was also earnestly, requested to

beseech the Queen's influence with Henry of Navarre, that he should

convert himself to Catholicism, and thus destroy the League.

On the other hand, the magniloquent Mendoza, who was fond of describing

himself as "so violent and terrible to the French that they wished to be

rid of him," had--as usual--been frightening the poor King, who, after a

futile attempt at dignity, had shrunk before the blusterings of the

ambassador. "This King," said Don Bernardino, "thought that he could

impose, upon me and silence me, by talking loud, but as I didn't talk

softly to him, he has undeceived himself . . . . I have had another

interview with him, and found him softer than silk, and he made me many

caresses, and after I went out, he said that I was a very skilful

minister."

It was the purpose of the League to obtain possession of the King's

person, and, if necessary, to dispose of the 'politiques' by a general

massacre, such as sixteen years before had been so successful in the case

of Coligny and the Huguenots. So the populace--more rabid than ever--were

impatient that their adored Balafre should come to Paris and begin the

holy work.

He came as far as Gonesse to do the job he had promised to Philip, but

having heard that Henry had reinforced himself with four thousand Swiss

from the garrison of Lagny, he fell back to Soissons. The King sent him a

most abject message, imploring him not to expose his sovereign to so much

danger, by setting his foot at that moment in the capital. The Balafre

hesitated, but the populace raved and roared for its darling. The

Queen-Mother urged her unhappy son to yield his consent, and the

Montpensier--fatal sister of Guise, with the famous scissors ever at her

girdle--insisted that her brother had as good a right as any man to come

to the city. Meantime the great chief of the 'politiques,' the hated and

insolent Epernon, had been appointed governor of Normandy, and Henry had

accompanied his beloved minion a part of the way towards Rouen. A plot

contrived by the Montpensier to waylay the monarch on his return, and to

take him into the safe-keeping of the League, miscarried, for the King

reentered the city before the scheme was ripe. On the other hand,

Nicholas Poulain, bought for twenty thousand crowns by the 'politiques,'

gave the King and his advisers-full information of all these intrigues,

and, standing in Henry's cabinet, offered, at peril of his life, if he

might be confronted with the conspirators--the leaders of the League

within the city--to prove the truth of the charges which he had made.

For the whole city was now thoroughly organized. The number of its

districts had been reduced from sixteen to five, the better to bring it

under the control of the League; and, while it could not be denied that

Mucio, had, been doing his master's work very thoroughly, yet it was

still in the power of the King--through the treachery of Poulain--to

strike a blow for life and freedom, before he was quite, taken in the

trap. But he stood helpless, paralyzed, gazing in dreamy stupor--like one

fascinated at the destruction awaiting him.

At last, one memorable May morning, a traveller alighted outside the gate

of Saint Martin, and proceeded on foot through the streets of Paris. He

was wrapped in a large cloak, which he held carefully over his face. When

he had got as far as the street of Saint Denis, a young gentleman among

the passers by, a good Leaguer, accosted the stranger, and with coarse

pleasantry, plucked the cloak from his face, and the hat from his head.

Looking at the handsome, swarthy features, marked with a deep scar, and

the dark, dangerous eyes which were then revealed, the practical jester

at once recognized in the simple traveller the terrible Balafre, and

kissed the hem of his garments with submissive rapture. Shouts of "Vive

Guise" rent the air from all the bystanders, as the Duke, no longer

affecting concealment, proceeded with a slow and stately step toward the

residence of Catharine de' Medici.' That queen of compromises and of

magic had been holding many a conference with the leaders of both

parties; had been increasing her son's stupefaction by her enigmatical

counsels; had been anxiously consulting her talisman of goat's and human

blood, mixed with metals melted under the influence of the star of her

nativity, and had been daily visiting the wizard Ruggieri, in whose magic

circle--peopled with a thousand fantastic heads--she had held high

converse with the world of spirits, and derived much sound advice as to

the true course of action to be pursued between her son and Philip, and

between the politicians and the League. But, in spite of these various

sources of instruction, Catharine--was somewhat perplexed, now that

decisive action seemed necessary--a dethronement and a new massacre

impending, and judicious compromise difficult. So after a hurried

conversation with Mucio, who insisted on an interview with the King, she

set forth for the Louvre, the Duke lounging calmly by the aide of her,

sedan chair, on foot, receiving the homage of the populace, as men,

women, and children together, they swarmed around him as he walked,

kissing his garments, and rending the air with their shouts. For that

wolfish mob of Paris, which had once lapped the blood of ten thousand

Huguenots in a single night, and was again rabid with thirst, was most

docile and fawning to the great Balafre. It grovelled before him, it hung

upon his look, it licked his hand, and, at the lifting of his finger, or

the glance of his eye, would have sprung at the throat of King or

Queen-Mother, minister, or minion, and devoured them all before his eyes.

It was longing for the sign, for, much as Paris adored and was besotted

with Guise and the League, even more, if possible, did it hate those

godless politicians, who had grown fat on extortions from the poor, and

who had converted their substance into the daily bread of luxury.

Nevertheless the city was full of armed men, Swiss and German

mercenaries, and burgher guards, sworn to fidelity to the throne. The

place might have been swept clean, at that moment, of rebels who were not

yet armed or fortified in their positions. The Lord had delivered Guise

into Henry's hands. "Oh, the madman!"--cried Sixtus V., when he heard

that the Duke had gone to Paris, "thus to put himself into the clutches

of the King whom he had so deeply offended!" And, "Oh, the wretched

coward, the imbecile?" he added, when he heard how the King had dealt

with his great enemy.

For the monarch was in his cabinet that May morning, irresolutely

awaiting the announced visit of the Duke. By his aide stood Alphonse

Corse, attached as a mastiff to his master, and fearing not Guise nor

Leaguer, man nor devil.

"Sire, is the Duke of Guise your friend or enemy?" said Alphonse. The

King answered by an expressive shrug.

"Say the word, Sire," continued Alphonse, "and I pledge myself to bring

his head this instant, and lay it at your feet."

And he would have done it. Even at the side of Catharine's sedan chair,

and in the very teeth of the worshipping mob, the Corsican would have had

the Balafre's life, even though he laid down his own.

But Henry--irresolute and fascinated--said it was not yet time for such a

blow.

Soon afterward; the Duke was announced. The chief of the League and the

last of the Valois met, face to face; but not for the last time. The

interview--was coldly respectful on the part of Mucio, anxious and

embarrassed on that of the King. When the visit, which was merely one of

ceremony, was over, the Duke departed as he came, receiving the renewed

homage of the populace as he walked to his hotel.

That night precautions were taken. All the guards were doubled around the

palace and through the streets. The Hotel de Ville and the Place de la

Greve were made secure, and the whole city was filled with troops. But

the Place Maubert was left unguarded, and a rabble rout--all night

long--was collecting in that distant spot. Four companies of

burgher-guards went over to the League at three o'clock in the morning.

The rest stood firm in the cemetery of the Innocents, awaiting the orders

of the King. At day-break on the 11th the town was still quiet. There was

an awful pause of expectation. The shops remained closed all the morning,

the royal troops were drawn up in battle-array, upon the Greve and around

the Hotel de Ville, but they stood motionless as statues, until the

populace began taunting them with cowardice, and then laughing them to

scorn. For their sovereign lord and master still sat paralyzed in his

palace.

The mob had been surging through all the streets and lanes, until, as by

a single impulse, chains were stretched across the streets, and

barricades thrown up in all the principal thoroughfares. About noon the

Duke of Guise, who had been sitting quietly in his hotel, with a very few

armed followers, came out into the street of the Hotel Montmorency, and

walked calmly up and down, arm-in-aim with the Archbishop of Lyons,

between a double hedge-row of spectators and admirers, three or four

ranks thick. He was dressed in a white slashed doublet and hose, and wore

a very large hat. Shouts of triumph resounded from a thousand brazen

throats, as he moved calmly about, receiving, at every instant, expresses

from the great gathering in the Place Maubert.

"Enough, too much, my good friends," he said, taking off the great

hat--("I don't know whether he was laughing in it," observed one who was

looking on that day)--"Enough of 'Long live Guise!' Cry 'Long live the

King!'"

There was no response, as might be expected, and the people shouted more

hoarsely than ever for Madam League and the Balafre. The Duke's face was

full of gaiety; there was not a shadow of anxiety upon it in that

perilous and eventful moment. He saw that the day was his own.

For now, the people, ripe, ready; mustered, armed, barricaded; awaited

but a signal to assault the King's mercenaries, before rushing to the

palace: On every house-top missiles were provided to hurl upon their

heads. There seemed no escape for Henry or his Germans from impending

doom, when Guise, thoroughly triumphant, vouchsafed them their lives.

"You must give me these soldiers as a present, my friends," said he to

the populace.

And so the armed Swiss, French, and German troopers and infantry,

submitted to be led out of Paris, following with docility the

aide-de-camp of Guise, Captain St. Paul, who walked quietly before them,

with his sword in its scabbard, and directing their movements with a

cane. Sixty of them were slain by the mob, who could not, even at the

command of their beloved chieftain, quite forego their expected banquet.

But this was all the blood shed on the memorable day of Barricades, when

another Bartholomew massacre had been, expected.

Meantime; while Guise was making his promenade through the city,

exchanging embraces with the rabble; and listening to the coarse

congratulations and obscene jests of the porters and fishwomen, the poor

King sat crying all day long in the Louvre. The Queen-Mother was with

him, reproaching him bitterly with his irresolution and want of

confidences in her, and scolding him for his tears. But the unlucky Henry

only wept the more as he cowered in a corner.

"These are idle tears," said Catherine. "This is no time for crying. And

for myself, though women weep so easily; I feel my heart too deeply wrung

for tears. If they came to my eyes they would be tears of blood."

Next day the last Valois walked-out, of the Louvre; as if for a promenade

in, the Tuileries, and proceeded straightway to the stalls, where his

horse stood saddled. Du Halde, his equerry, buckled his master's spurs on

upside down. "No; matter;" said Henry; "I am not riding to see my

mistress. I have a longer journey before me."

And so, followed by a rabble rout of courtiers, without boots or cloaks;

and mounted on, sorry hacks--the King-of France rode forth from his

capital post-haste, and turning as he left the gates, hurled back

impotent imprecations upon Paris and its mob. Thenceforth, for a long

interval, there: was no king in that country. Mucio had done his work,

and earned his wages, and Philip II. reigned in Paris. The commands of

the League were now complied with. Heretics were doomed to extermination.

The edict of 19th July, 1588, was published with the most exclusive and

stringent provisions that the most bitter Romanist could imagine, and, as

a fair beginning; two young girls, daughters of Jacques Forcade, once

'procureur au parlement,' were burned in Paris, for the crime, of

Protestantism. The Duke of Guise was named Generalissimo of the Kingdom

(26th August, 1588). Henry gave in his submission to the Council of

Trent, the edicts, the Inquisition, and the rest of the League's infernal

machinery, and was formally reconciled to Guise, with how much sincerity

time was soon to show.

[The King bound himself by oath to extirpate heresy, to remove all

persons suspected of that crime from office, and never to lay down

arms so long as a single, heretic remained. By secret articles,'two

armies against the Huguenots were agreed upon, one under the Duke of

Mayenne, the other under some general to be appointed by the grog.

The Council of Trent was forthwith to be proclaimed, and by a

refinement of malice the League stipulated that all officers

appointed in Paris by the Duke of Guise on the day after the

barricades should resign their powers, and be immediately

re-appointed by the King himself (DeThou, x.1. 86, pp. 324-325.)]

Meantime Philip, for whom and at whose expense all this work had been

done by he hands of the faithful Mucio, was constantly assuring his royal

brother of France, through envoy Longlee, at Madrid, of his most

affectionate friendship, and utterly repudiating all knowledge of these

troublesome and dangerous plots. Yet they had been especially

organized--as we have seen--by himself and the Balafre, in order that

France might be kept a prey to civil war, and thus rendered incapable of

offering any obstruction to his great enterprise against England. Any

complicity of Mendoza, the Spanish ambassador in Paris, or, of the Duke

of Parma, who were important agents in all these proceedings, with the

Duke of Guise, was strenuously--and circumstantially--denied; and the

Balafre, on the day of the barricades, sent Brissac to Elizabeth's envoy,

Sir Edward Stafford, to assure him as to his personal safety; and as to

the deep affection with which England and its Queen were regarded by

himself and all his friends. Stafford had also been advised to accept a

guard for his house of embassy. His reply was noble.

"I represent the majesty of England," he said, "and can take no safeguard

from a subject of the sovereign to whom I am accredited."

To the threat of being invaded, and to the advice to close his gates, he

answered, "Do you see these two doors? now, then, if I am attacked, I am

determined to defend myself to the last drop of my blood, to serve as an

example to the universe of the law of nations, violated in my person. Do

not imagine that I shall follow your advice. The gates of an ambassador

shall be open to all the world."

Brissac returned with this answer to Guise, who saw that it was hopeless

to attempt making a display in the eyes of Queen Elizabeth, but gave

private orders that the ambassador should not be molested.

Such were the consequences of the day of the barricades--and thus the

path of Philip was cleared of all obstructions on, the part of France.

His Mucio was now, generalissimo. Henry was virtually deposed. Henry of

Navarre, poor and good-humoured as ever, was scarcely so formidable at

that moment as he might one day become. When the news of the day of

barricades was brought at night to that cheerful monarch, he started from

his couch. "Ha," he exclaimed with a laugh, "but they havn't yet caught

the Bearnese!"

And it might be long before the League would catch the Bearnese; but,

meantime, he could render slight assistance to Queen Elizabeth.

In England there had been much fruitless negotiation between the

government of that country and the commissioners from the States-General.

There was perpetual altercation on the subject of Utrecht, Leyden, Sonoy,

and the other causes of contention; the Queen--as usual--being imperious

and choleric, and the envoys, in her opinion, very insolent. But the

principal topic of discussion was the peace-negotiations, which the

States-General, both at home and through their delegation in England, had

been doing their best to prevent; steadily refusing her Majesty's demand

that commissioners, on their part, should be appointed to participate in

the conferences at Ostend. Elizabeth promised that there should be as

strict regard paid to the interests of Holland as to those of England, in

case of a pacification, and that she would never forget her duty to them,

to herself, and to the world, as the protectress of the reformed

religion. The deputies, on the other hand, warned her that peace with

Spain was impossible; that the intention of the Spanish court was to

deceive her, while preparing her destruction and theirs; that it was

hopeless to attempt the concession of any freedom of conscience from

Philip II.; and that any stipulations which might be made upon that, or

any other subject, by the Spanish commissioners, would be tossed to the

wind. In reply to the Queen's loud complaints that the States had been

trifling with her, and undutiful to her, and that they had kept her

waiting seven months long for an answer to her summons to participate in

the negotiations, they replied, that up to the 15th October of the

previous year, although there had been flying rumours of an intention on

the part of her Majesty's government to open those communications with

the enemy, it had, "nevertheless been earnestly and expressly, and with

high words and oaths, denied that there was any truth in those rumours."

Since that time the States had not once only, but many times, in private

letters, in public documents, and in conversations with Lord Leicester

and other eminent personages, deprecated any communications whatever with

Spain, asserting uniformly their conviction that such proceedings would

bring ruin on their country, and imploring her Majesty not to give ear to

any propositions whatever.

And not only were the envoys, regularly appointed by the States-General,

most active in England, in their attempts to prevent the negotiations,

but delegates from the Netherland churches were also sent to the Queen,

to reason with her on the subject, and to utter solemn warnings that the

cause of the reformed religion would be lost for ever, in case of a

treaty on her part with Spain. When these clerical envoys reached England

the Queen was already beginning to wake from her delusion; although her

commissioners were still--as we have seen--hard at work, pouring sand

through their sieves at Ostend, and although the steady protestations, of

the Duke of Parma, and the industrious circulation of falsehoods by

Spanish emissaries, had even caused her wisest statesmen, for a time, to

participate in that delusion.

For it is not so great an impeachment on the sagacity of the great Queen

of England, as it would now appear to those who judge by the light of

subsequent facts, that she still doubted whether the armaments,

notoriously preparing in Spain and Flanders, were intended against

herself; and that even if such were the case--she still believed in the

possibility of averting the danger by negotiation.

So late as the beginning of May, even the far-seeing and anxious

Walsingham could say, that in England "they were doing nothing but

honouring St. George, of whom the Spanish Armada seemed to be afraid. We

hear," he added, "that they will not be ready to set forward before the

midst of May, but I trust that it will be May come twelve months. The

King of Spain is too old and too sickly to fall to conquer kingdoms. If

he be well counselled, his best course will be to settle his own kingdoms

in his own hands."

And even much later, in the middle of July--when the mask was hardly,

maintained--even then there was no certainty as to the movements of the

Armada; and Walsingham believed, just ten days before the famous fleet

was to appear off Plymouth, that it had dispersed and returned to Spain,

never to re-appear. As to Parma's intentions, they were thought to lie

rather in the direction: of Ostend than of England; and Elizabeth; on the

20th July, was more anxious for that city than for her own kingdom. "Mr.

Ned, I am persuaded," she wrote to Morris, "that if a Spanish fleet

break, the Prince of Parma's enterprise for England will fall to the

ground, and then are you to look to Ostend. Haste your works."

All through the spring and early summer, Stafford, in Paris, was kept in

a state of much perplexity as to the designs of Spain--so contradictory

were the stories circulated--and so bewildering the actions of men known

to be hostile to England. In, the last days of April he intimated it as a

common opinion in Paris, that these naval preparations of Philip were an

elaborate farce; "that the great elephant would bring forth but a

mouse--that the great processions, prayers, and pardons, at Rome, for the

prosperous success of the Armada against England; would be of no effect;

that the King of Spain was laughing in his sleeve at the Pope, that he

could make such a fool of him; and that such an enterprise was a thing

the King never durst think of in deed, but only in show to feed the

world."

Thus, although furnished with minute details as to these, armaments, and

as to the exact designs of Spain against his country, by the ostentatious

statements of the Spanish ambassador in Paris himself, the English,

envoy was still inclined to believe that these statements were a figment,

expressly intended to deceive. Yet he was aware that Lord Westmoreland,

Lord Paget, Sir Charles Paget, Morgan, and other English refugees, were

constantly meeting with Mendoza, that they were told to get themselves in

readiness, and to go down--as well appointed as might be--to the Duke of

Parma; that they had been "sending for their tailor to make them apparel,

and to put themselves in equipage;" that, in particular, Westmoreland had

been assured of being restored by Philip to his native country in better

condition than before. The Catholic and Spanish party in Paris were

however much dissatisfied with the news from Scotland, and were getting

more and more afraid that King James would object to the Spaniards

getting a foot-hold in his country, and that "the Scots would soon be

playing them a Scottish trick."

Stafford was plunged still more inextricably into doubt by the accounts

from Longlee in Madrid. The diplomatist, who had been completely

convinced by Philip as to his innocence of any participation in the

criminal enterprise of Guise against Henry III., was now almost staggered

by the unscrupulous mendacity of that monarch with regard to any supposed

designs against England. Although the Armada was to be ready by the 15th

May, Longlee was of opinion--notwithstanding many bold announcements of

an attack upon Elizabeth--that the real object of the expedition was

America. There had recently been discovered, it was said, "a new country,

more rich in gold and silver than any yet found, but so full of stout

people that they could not master them." To reduce these stout people

beyond the Atlantic, therefore, and to get possession of new gold mines,

was the real object at which Philip was driving, and Longlee and Stafford

were both very doubtful whether it were worth the Queen's while to

exhaust her finances in order to protect herself against an imaginary

invasion. Even so late as the middle of July, six to one was offered on

the Paris exchange that the Spanish fleet would never be seen in the

English seas, and those that offered the bets were known to be

well-wishers to the Spanish party.

Thus sharp diplomatists and statesmen like Longlee, Stafford, and

Walsingham, were beginning to lose their fear of the great bugbear by

which England had so long been haunted. It was, therefore no deep stain

on the Queen's sagacity that she, too, was willing to place credence in

the plighted honour of Alexander Farnese, the great prince who prided

himself on his sincerity, and who, next to the King his master, adored

the virgin Queen of England.

The deputies of the Netherland churches had come, with the permission of

Count Maurice and of the States General; but they represented more

strongly than any other envoys could do, the English and the monarchical

party. They were instructed especially to implore the Queen to accept the

sovereignty of their country; to assure her that the restoration of

Philip--who had been a wolf instead of a shepherd to his flock--was an

impossibility, that he had been solemnly and for ever deposed, that under

her sceptre only could the Provinces ever recover their ancient

prosperity; that ancient and modern history alike made it manifest that a

free republic could never maintain itself, but that it must, of

necessity, run its course through sedition, bloodshed, and anarchy, until

liberty was at last crushed by an absolute despotism; that equality of

condition, the basis of democratic institutions, could never be made

firm; and that a fortunate exception, like that of Switzerland, whose

historical and political circumstances were peculiar, could never serve

as a model to the Netherlands, accustomed as those Provinces had ever

been to a monarchical form of government; and that the antagonism of

aristocratic and democratic elements in the States had already produced

discord, and was threatening destruction to the whole country. To avert

such dangers the splendour of royal authority was necessary, according to

the venerable commands of Holy Writ; and therefore the Netherland

churches acknowledged themselves the foster-children of England, and

begged that in political matters also the inhabitants of the Provinces

might be accepted as the subjects of her Majesty. They also implored the

Queen to break off these accursed negotiations with Spain, and to provide

that henceforth in the Netherlands the reformed religion might be freely

exercised, to the exclusion of any other.

Thus it was very evident that these clerical envoys, although they were

sent by permission of the States, did not come as the representatives of

the dominant party. For that 'Beelzebub,' Barneveld, had different

notions from theirs as to the possibility of a republic, and as to the

propriety of tolerating other forms of worship than his own. But it was

for such pernicious doctrines, on religious matters in particular, that

he was called Beelzebub, Pope John, a papist in disguise, and an atheist;

and denounced, as leading young Maurice and the whole country to

destruction.

On the basis of these instructions, the deputies drew up a memorial of

pitiless length, filled with astounding parallels between their own

position and that of the Hebrews, Assyrians, and other distinguished

nations of antiquity. They brought it to Walsingham on the 12th July,

1588, and the much enduring man heard it read from beginning to end. He

expressed his approbation of its sentiments, but said it was too long. It

must be put on one sheet of paper, he said, if her Majesty was expected

to read it.

"Moreover," said the Secretary of State, "although your arguments are

full of piety, and your examples from Holy Writ very apt, I must tell you

the plain truth. Great princes are not always so zealous in religious

matters as they might be. Political transactions move them more deeply,

and they depend too much on worldly things. However there is no longer

much danger, for our envoys will return from Flanders in a few days."

"But," asked a deputy, "if the Spanish fleet does not succeed in its

enterprise, will the peace-negotiations be renewed?"

"By no means," said Walsingham; "the Queen can never do that,

consistently with her honour. They have scattered infamous libels against

her--so scandalous, that you would be astounded should you read them.

Arguments drawn from honour are more valid with princes than any other."

He alluded to the point in their memorial touching the free exercise of

the reformed religion in the Provinces.

"'Tis well and piously said," he observed; "but princes and great lords

are not always very earnest in such matters. I think that her Majesty's

envoys will not press for the free exercise of the religion so very much;

not more than for two or three years. By that time--should our

negotiations succeed--the foreign troops will have evacuated the

Netherlands on condition that the States-General shall settle the

religious question."

"But," said Daniel de Dieu, one of the deputies, "the majority of the

States is Popish."

"Be it so," replied Sir Francis; "nevertheless they will sooner permit

the exercise of the reformed religion than take up arms and begin the war

anew."

He then alluded to the proposition of the deputies to exclude all

religious worship but that of the reformed church--all false religion--as

they expressed themselves.

"Her Majesty," said he, "is well disposed to permit some exercise of

their religion to the Papists. So far as regards my own feelings, if we

were now in the beginning, of the reformation, and the papacy were still

entire, I should willingly concede such exercise; but now that the Papacy

has been overthrown, I think it would not be safe to give such

permission. When we were disputing, at the time of the pacification of

Ghent, whether the Popish religion should be partially permitted, the

Prince of Orange was of the affirmative opinion; but I, who was then at

Antwerp, entertained the contrary conviction."

"But," said one of the deputies--pleased to find that Walsingham was more

of their way of thinking on religious toleration than the great Prince of

Orange had been, or than Maurice and Barneveld then were--"but her

Majesty will, we hope, follow the advice of her good and faithful

counsellors."

"To tell you the truth," answered Sir Francis, "great princes are not

always inspired with a sincere and upright zeal;"--it was the third time

he had made this observation"--although, so far as regards the

maintenance of the religion in the Netherlands, that is a matter of

necessity. Of that there is no fear, since otherwise all the pious would

depart, and none would remain but Papists, and, what is more, enemies of

England. Therefore the Queen is aware that the religion must be

maintained."

He then advised the deputies to hand in the memorial to her Majesty,

without any long speeches, for which there was then no time or

opportunity; and it was subsequently arranged that they should be

presented to the Queen as she would be mounting her horse at St. James's

to ride to Richmond.

Accordingly on the 15th July, as her Majesty came forth at the gate, with

a throng of nobles and ladies--some about to accompany her and some

bidding her adieu--the deputies fell on their knees before her.

Notwithstanding the advice of Walsingham, Daniel de Dieu was bent upon an

oration.

"Oh illustrious Queen!" he began, "the churches of the United

Netherlands----"

He had got no further, when the Queen, interrupting, exclaimed, "Oh! I

beg you--at another time--I cannot now listen to a speech. Let me see the

memorial."

Daniel de Dieu then humbly presented that document, which her Majesty

graciously received, and then, getting on horseback, rode off to

Richmond.'

The memorial was in the nature of an exhortation to sustain the religion,

and to keep clear of all negotiations with idolaters and unbelievers; and

the memorialists supported themselves by copious references to

Deuteronomy, Proverbs, Isaiah, Timothy, and Psalms, relying mainly on the

case of Jehosaphat, who came to disgrace and disaster through his treaty

with the idolatrous King Ahab. With regard to any composition with Spain,

they observed, in homely language, that a burnt cat fears the fire; and

they assured the Queen that, by following their advice, she would gain a

glorious and immortal name, like those of David, Ezekiel, Josiah, and

others, whose fragrant memory, even as precious incense from the

apothecary's, endureth to the end of the world.

It was not surprising that Elizabeth, getting on horseback on the 15th

July, 1588, with her head full of Tilbury Fort and Medina Sidonia, should

have as little relish for the affairs of Ahab and Jehosophat, as for

those melting speeches of Diomede and of Turnus, to which Dr. Valentine

Dale on his part was at that moment invoking her attention.

On the 20th July, the deputies were informed by Leicester that her

Majesty would grant them an interview, July 20, and that they must come

into his quarter of the palace and await her arrival.

Between six and seven in the evening she came into the throne-room, and

the deputies again fell on their knees before her.

She then seated herself--the deputies remaining on their knees on her

right side and the Earl of Leicester standing at her left--and proceeded

to make many remarks touching her earnestness in the pending negotiations

to provide for their religious freedom. It seemed that she must have

received a hint from Walsingham on the subject.

"I shall provide," she said, "for the maintenance of the reformed

worship."

De Dieu--"The enemy will never concede it."

The Queen.--"I think differently."

De Dieu.--"There is no place within his dominions where he has permitted

the exercise of the pure religion. He has never done so."

The Queen.--"He conceded it in the pacification of Ghent."

De Dieu.--"But he did not keep his agreement. Don John had concluded with

the States, but said he was not held to his promise, in case he should

repent; and the King wrote afterwards to our States, and said that he was

no longer bound to his pledge."

The Queen.--"That is quite another thing."

De Dieu.--"He has very often broken his faith."

The Queen.--"He shall no longer be allowed to do so. If he does not keep

his word, that is my affair, not yours. It is my business to find the

remedy. Men would say, see in what a desolation the Queen of England has

brought this poor people. As to the freedom of worship, I should have

proposed three or four years' interval--leaving it afterwards to the

decision of the States."

De Dieu.--"But the majority of the States is Popish."

The Queen.--"I mean the States-General, not the States of any particular

Province."

De Dieu.--"The greater part of the States-General is Popish."

The Queen.--"I mean the three estates--the clergy, the nobles, and the

cities." The Queen--as the deputies observed--here fell into an error.

She thought that prelates of the reformed Church, as in England, had

seats in the States-General. Daniel de Dieu explained that they had no

such position.

The Queen.--"Then how were you sent hither?"

De Dieu.--"We came with the consent of Count Maurice of Nassau."

The Queen.--"And of the States?"

De Dieu.--"We came with their knowledge."

The Queen.--"Are you sent only from Holland and Zeeland? Is there no

envoy from Utrecht and the other Provinces?"

Helmichius.--"We two," pointing to his colleague Sossingius, "are from

Utrecht."

The Queen.--"What? Is this young man also a minister?" She meant

Helmichius, who had a very little beard, and looked young.

Sossingius.--"He is not so young as he looks."

The Queen.--"Youths are sometimes as able as old men."

De Dieu.--"I have heard our brother preach in France more than fourteen

years ago."

The Queen.--"He must have begun young. How old were you when you first

became a preacher?"

Helmichius.--"Twenty-three or twenty-four years of age."

The Queen.--"It was with us, at first, considered a scandal that a man so

young as that should be admitted to the pulpit. Our antagonists

reproached us with it in a book called 'Scandale de l'Angleterre,' saying

that we had none but school-boys for ministers. I understand that you

pray for me as warmly as if I were your sovereign princess. I think I

have done as much for the religion as if I were your Queen."

Helmichius.--"We are far from thinking otherwise. We acknowledge

willingly your Majesty's benefits to our churches."

The Queen.--"It would else be ingratitude on your part."

Helmichius.--"But the King of Spain will never keep any promise about the

religion."

The Queen.--"He will never come so far: he does nothing but make a noise

on all sides. Item, I don't think he has much confidence in himself."

De Dieu.--"Your Majesty has many enemies. The Lord hath hitherto

supported you, and we pray that he may continue to uphold your Majesty."

The Queen.--"I have indeed many enemies; but I make no great account of

them. Is there anything else you seek?"

De Dieu.--"There is a special point: it concerns our, or rather your

Majesty's, city of Flushing. We hope that Russelius--(so he called Sir

William Russell)--may be continued in its government, although he wishes

his discharge."

"Aha!" said the Queen, laughing and rising from her seat, "I shall not

answer you; I shall call some one else to answer you."

She then summoned Russell's sister, Lady Warwick.

"If you could speak French," said the Queen to that gentlewoman, "I

should bid you reply to these gentlemen, who beg that your brother may

remain in Flushing, so very agreeable has he made himself to them."

The Queen was pleased to hear this good opinion of Sir William, and this

request that he might continue to be governor of Flushing, because he had

uniformly supported the Leicester party, and was at that moment in high

quarrel with Count Maurice and the leading members of the States.

As the deputies took their leave, they requested an answer to their

memorial, which was graciously promised.

Three days afterwards, Walsingham gave them a written answer to their

memorial--conceived in the same sense as had been the expressions of her

Majesty and her counsellors. Support to the Netherlands and stipulations

for the free exercise of their religion were promised; but it was

impossible for these deputies of the churches to obtain a guarantee from

England that the Popish religion should be excluded from the Provinces,

in case of a successful issue to the Queen's negotiation with Spain.

And thus during all those eventful days-the last weeks of July and the

first weeks of August--the clerical deputation remained in England,

indulging in voluminous protocols and lengthened conversations with the

Queen and the principal members of her government. It is astonishing, in

that breathless interval of history, that so much time could be found for

quill-driving and oratory.

Nevertheless, both in Holland and England, there had been other work than

protocolling. One throb of patriotism moved the breast of both nations. A

longing to grapple, once for all, with the great enemy of civil and

religious liberty inspired both. In Holland, the States-General and all

the men to whom the people looked for guidance, had been long deprecating

the peace-negotiations. Extraordinary supplies--more than had ever been

granted before--were voted for the expenses of the campaign; and Maurice

of Nassau, fitly embodying the warlike tendencies of his country and

race, had been most importunate with Queen Elizabeth that she would

accept his services and his advice. Armed vessels of every size, from the

gun-boat to the galleon of 1200 tons--then the most imposing ship in

those waters--swarmed in all the estuaries and rivers, and along the

Dutch and Flemish coast, bidding defiance to Parma and his armaments; and

offers of a large contingent from the fleets of Jooat de Moor and

Justinua de Nassau, to serve under Seymour and Howard, were freely made

to the States-General.

It was decided early in July, by the board of admiralty, presided over by

Prince Maurice, that the largest square-rigged vessels of Holland and

Zeeland should cruise between England and the Flemish coast, outside the

banks; that a squadron of lesser ships should be stationed within the

banks; and that a fleet of sloops and fly-boats should hover close in

shore, about Flushing and Rammekens. All the war-vessels of the little

republic were thus fully employed. But, besides this arrangement, Maurice

was empowered to lay an embargo--under what penalty he chose and during

his pleasure--on all square-rigged vessels over 300 tons, in order that

there might be an additional supply in case of need. Ninety ships of war

under Warmond, admiral, and Van der Does, vice-admiral of Holland; and

Justinus de Nassau, admiral, and Joost de Moor, vice-admiral of Zeeland;

together with fifty merchant-vessels of the best and strongest, equipped

and armed for active service, composed a formidable fleet.

The States-General, a month before, had sent twenty-five or thirty good

ships, under Admiral Rosendael, to join Lord Henry Seymour, then cruising

between Dover and Calais. A tempest, drove them back, and their absence

from Lord Henry's fleet being misinterpreted by the English, the States

were censured for ingratitude and want of good faith. But the injustice

of the accusation was soon made manifest, for these vessels, reinforcing

the great Dutch fleet outside the banks, did better service than they

could have done; in the straits. A squadron of strong well-armed vessels,

having on board, in addition to their regular equipment, a picked force

of twelve hundred musketeers, long accustomed to this peculiar kind of

naval warfare, with crews of, grim Zeelanders, who had faced Alva, and

Valdez in their day, now kept close watch over Farnese, determined that

he should never thrust his face out of any haven or nook on the coast so

long as they should be in existence to prevent him.

And in England the protracted diplomacy at Ostend, ill-timed though it

was, had not paralyzed the arm or chilled the heart of the nation. When

the great Queen, arousing herself from the delusion in which the

falsehoods of Farnese and of Philip had lulled her, should once more.

represent--as no man or woman better than Elizabeth Tudor could

represent--the defiance of England to foreign insolence; the resolve of a

whole people to die rather than yield; there was a thrill of joy through

the national heart. When the enforced restraint was at last taken off,

there was one bound towards the enemy. Few more magnificent spectacles

have been seen in history than the enthusiasm which pervaded the country

as the great danger, so long deferred, was felt at last to be closely

approaching. The little nation of four millions, the merry England of the

sixteenth century, went forward to the death-grapple with its gigantic

antagonist as cheerfully as to a long-expected holiday. Spain was a vast

empire, overshadowing the world; England, in comparison, but a province;

yet nothing could surpass the steadiness with which the conflict was

awaited.

For, during all the months of suspense; the soldiers and sailors, and

many statesman of England, had deprecated, even as the Hollanders had

been doing, the dangerous delays of Ostend. Elizabeth was not embodying

the national instinct, when she talked of peace; and shrank penuriously

from the expenses of war. There was much disappointment, even

indignation, at the slothfulness with which the preparations for defence

went on, during the period when there was yet time to make them. It was

feared with justice that England, utterly unfortified as were its cities,

and defended only by its little navy without, and by untaught enthusiasm

within, might; after all, prove an easier conquest than Holland and

Zeeland, every town, in whose territory bristled with fortifications. If

the English ships--well-trained and swift sailors as they were--were

unprovided with spare and cordage, beef and biscuit, powder and shot, and

the militia-men, however enthusiastic, were neither drilled nor armed,

was it so very certain, after all, that successful resistance would be

made to the great Armada, and to the veteran pikemen and musketeers of

Farnese, seasoned on a hundred, battlefields, and equipped as for a

tournament? There was generous confidence and chivalrous loyalty on the

part of Elizabeth's naval and military commanders; but there had been

deep regret and disappointment at her course.

Hawkins was anxious, all through the winter and spring, to cruise with a

small squadron off the coast of Spain. With a dozen vessels he undertook

to "distress anything that went through the seas." The cost of such a

squadron, with eighteen hundred men, to be relieved every four months, he

estimated at two thousand seven hundred pounds sterling the month, or a

shilling a day for each man; and it would be a very unlucky month, he

said, in which they did not make captures to three times that amount; for

they would see nothing that would not be presently their own. "We might

have peace, but not with God," said the pious old slave-trader; "but

rather than serve Baal, let us die a thousand deaths. Let us have open

war with these Jesuits, and every man will contribute, fight, devise, or

do, for the liberty of our country."

And it was open war with the Jesuits for which those stouthearted sailors

longed. All were afraid of secret mischief. The diplomatists--who were

known to be flitting about France, Flanders, Scotland, and England--were

birds of ill omen. King James was beset by a thousand bribes and

expostulations to avenge his mother's death; and although that mother had

murdered his father, and done her best to disinherit himself, yet it was

feared that Spanish ducats might induce him to be true to his mother's

revenge, and false to the reformed religion. Nothing of good was hoped

for from France. "For my part," said Lord Admiral Howard, "I have made of

the French King, the Scottish King, and the King of Spain, a trinity that

I mean never to trust to be saved by, and I would that others were of my

opinion."

The noble sailor, on whom so much responsibility rested, yet who was so

trammelled and thwarted by the timid and parsimonious policy of Elizabeth

and of Burghley, chafed and shook his chains like a captive. "Since

England was England," he exclaimed, "there was never such a stratagem and

mask to deceive her as this treaty of peace. I pray God that we do not

curse for this a long grey beard with a white head witless, that will

make all the world think us heartless. You know whom I mean." And it

certainly was not difficult to understand the allusion to the pondering

Lord-Treasurer. "'Opus est aliquo Daedalo,' to direct us out of the

maze," said that much puzzled statesman; but he hardly seemed to be

making himself wings with which to lift England and himself out of the

labyrinth. The ships were good ships, but there was intolerable delay in

getting a sufficient number of them as ready for action as was the spirit

of their commanders.

"Our ships do show like gallants here," said Winter; "it would do a man's

heart good to behold them. Would to God the Prince of Parma were on the

seas with all his forces, and we in sight of them. You should hear that

we would make his enterprise very unpleasant to him."

And Howard, too, was delighted not only with his own little flag-ship the

Ark-Royal--"the odd ship of the world for all conditions,"--but with all

of his fleet that could be mustered. Although wonders were reported, by

every arrival from the south, of the coming Armada, the Lord-Admiral was

not appalled. He was perhaps rather imprudent in the defiance he flung to

the enemy. "Let me have the four great ships and twenty hoys, with but

twenty men a-piece, and each with but two iron pieces, and her Majesty

shall have a good account of the Spanish forces; and I will make the King

wish his galleys home again. Few as we are, if his forces be not

hundreds, we will make good sport with them."

But those four great ships of her Majesty, so much longed for by Howard,

were not forthcoming. He complained that the Queen was "keeping them to

protect Chatham Church withal, when they should be serving their turn

abroad." The Spanish fleet was already reported as numbering from 210

sail, with 36,000 men,' to 400 or 500 ships, and 80,000 soldiers and

mariners; and yet Drake was not ready with his squadron. "The fault is

not in him," said Howard, "but I pray God her Majesty do not repent her

slack dealing. We must all lie together, for we shall be stirred very

shortly with heave ho! I fear ere long her Majesty will be sorry she hath

believed some so much as she hath done."

Howard had got to sea, and was cruising all the stormy month of March in

the Channel with his little unprepared squadron; expecting at any

moment--such was the profound darkness which, enveloped the world at that

day--that the sails of the Armada might appear in the offing. He made a

visit to the Dutch coast, and was delighted with the enthusiasm with

which he was received. Five thousand people a day came on board his

ships, full of congratulation and delight; and he informed the Queen that

she was not more assured of the Isle of Sheppey than of Walcheren.

Nevertheless time wore on, and both the army and navy of England were

quite unprepared, and the Queen was more reluctant than ever to incur the

expense necessary to the defence of her kingdom. At least one of those

galleys, which, as Howard bitterly complained, seemed destined to defend

Chatham Church, was importunately demanded; but it was already Easter-Day

(17th April), and she was demanded in vain. "Lord! when should she

serve," said the Admiral, "if not at such a time as this? Either she is

fit now to serve, or fit for the fire. I hope never in my time to see so

great a cause for her to be used. I dare say her Majesty will look that

men should fight for her, and I know they will at this time. The King of

Spain doth not keep any ship at home, either of his own or any other,

that he can get for money. Well, well, I must pray heartily for peace,"

said Howard with increasing spleen, "for I see the support of an

honourable, war will never appear. Sparing and war have no affinity

together."

In truth Elizabeth's most faithful subjects were appalled at the ruin

which she seemed by her mistaken policy to be rendering inevitable. "I am

sorry," said the Admiral, "that her Majesty is so careless of this most

dangerous time. I fear me much, and with grief I think it, that she

relieth on a hope that will deceive her, and greatly endanger her, and

then it will not be her money nor her jewels that will help; for as they

will do good in time, so they will help nothing for the redeeming of

time."

The preparations on shore were even more dilatory than those on the sea.

We have seen that the Duke of Parma, once landed, expected to march

directly upon London; and it was notorious that there were no fortresses

to oppose a march of the first general in Europe and his veterans upon

that unprotected and wealthy metropolis. An army had been enrolled--a

force of 86,016 foot, and 13,831 cavalry; but it was an army on paper

merely. Even of the 86,000, only 48,000 were set down as trained; and it

is certain that the training had been of the most meagre and

unsatisfactory description. Leicester was to be commander-in-chief; but

we have already seen that nobleman measuring himself, not much to his

advantage, with Alexander Farnese, in the Isle of Bommel, on the sands of

Blankenburg, and at the gates of Sluys. His army was to consist of 27,000

infantry, and 2000 horse; yet at midsummer it had not reached half that

number. Lord Chamberlain Hunsdon was to protect the Queen's person with

another army of 36,000; but this force, was purely an imaginary one; and

the lord-lieutenant of each county was to do his best with the militia.

But men were perpetually escaping out of the general service, in order to

make themselves retainers for private noblemen, and be kept at their

expense. "You shall hardly believe," said Leicester, "how many new

liveries be gotten within these six weeks, and no man fears the penalty.

It would be better that every nobleman did as Lord Dacres, than to take

away from the principal service such as are set down to serve."

Of enthusiasm and courage, then, there was enough, while of drill and

discipline, of powder and shot, there was a deficiency. No braver or more

competent soldier could be found than Sir Edward Stanley--the man whom we

have seen in his yellow jerkin, helping himself into Fort Zutphen with

the Spanish soldier's pike--and yet Sir Edward Stanley gave but a sorry

account of the choicest soldiers of Chester and Lancashire, whom he had

been sent to inspect. "I find them not," he said, "according to your

expectation, nor mine own liking. They were appointed two years past to

have been trained six days by the year or more, at the discretion of the

muster-master, but, as yet, they have not been trained one day, so that

they have benefited nothing, nor yet know their leaders. There is now

promise of amendment, which, I doubt, will be very slow, in respect to my

Lord Derby's absence."

My Lord Derby was at that moment, and for many months afterwards,

assisting Valentine Dale in his classical prolusions on the sands of

Bourbourg. He had better have been mustering the trainbands of

Lancashire. There was a general indisposition in the rural districts to

expend money and time in military business, until the necessity should

become imperative. Professional soldiers complained bitterly of the

canker of a long peace. "For our long quietness, which it hath pleased

God to send us," said Stanley, "they think their money very ill bestowed

which they expend on armour or weapon, for that they be in hope they

shall never have occasion to use it, so they may pass muster, as they

have done heretofore. I want greatly powder, for there is little or none

at all."

The day was fast approaching when all the power in England would be too

little for the demand. But matters had not very much mended even at

midsummer. It is true that Leicester, who was apt to be

sanguine-particularly in matters under his immediate control--spoke of

the handful of recruits assembled at his camp in Essex, as "soldiers of a

year's experience, rather than a month's camping;" but in this opinion he

differed from many competent authorities, and was somewhat in

contradiction to himself. Nevertheless he was glad that the Queen had

determined to visit him, and encourage his soldiers.

"I have received in secret," he said, "those news that please me, that

your Majesty doth intend to behold the poor and bare company that lie

here in the field, most willingly to serve you, yea, most ready to die

for you. You shall, dear Lady, behold as goodly, loyal, and as able men

as any prince Christian can show you, and yet but a handful of your own,

in comparison of the rest you have. What comfort not only these shall

receive who shall be the happiest to behold yourself I cannot express;

but assuredly it will give no small comfort to the rest, that shall be

overshined with the beams of so gracious and princely a party, for what

your royal Majesty shall do to these will be accepted as done to all.

Good sweet Queen, alter not your purpose, if God give you health. It will

be your pain for the time, but your pleasure to behold such people. And

surely the place must content you, being as fair a soil and as goodly a

prospect as may be seen or found, as this extreme weather hath made

trial, which doth us little annoyance, it is so firm and dry a ground.

Your usher also liketh your lodging--a proper, secret, cleanly house.

Your camp is a little mile off, and your person will be as sure as at St.

James's, for my life."

But notwithstanding this cheerful view of the position expressed by the

commander-in-chief, the month of July had passed, and the early days of

August had already arrived; and yet the camp was not formed, nor anything

more than that mere handful of troops mustered about Tilbury, to defend

the road from Dover to London. The army at Tilbury never, exceeded

sixteen or seventeen thousand men.

The whole royal navy-numbering about thirty-four vessels in all--of

different sizes, ranging from 1100 and 1000 tons to 30, had at last been

got ready for sea. Its aggregate tonnage was 11,820; not half so

much as at the present moment--in the case of one marvellous

merchant-steamer--floats upon a single keel.

These vessels carried. 837 guns and 6279 men. But the navy was reinforced

by the patriotism and liberality of English merchants and private

gentlemen. The city of London having been requested to furnish 15 ships

of war and 5000 men, asked two days for deliberation, and then gave 30

ships and 10,000 men of which number 2710 were seamen. Other cities,

particularly Plymouth, came forward with proportionate liberality, and

private individuals, nobles, merchants, and men of humblest rank, were

enthusiastic in volunteering into the naval service, to risk property and

life in defence of the country. By midsummer there had been a total force

of 197 vessels manned, and partially equipped, with an aggregate of

29,744 tons, and 15,785 seamen. Of this fleet a very large number were

mere coasters of less than 100 tons each; scarcely ten ships were above

500, and but one above 1000 tons--the Triumph, Captain Frobisher, of 1100

tons, 42 guns, and 500 sailors.

Lord Howard of Effingham, Lord High-Admiral of England, distinguished for

his martial character, public spirit, and admirable temper, rather than

for experience or skill as a seaman, took command of the whole fleet, in

his "little odd ship for all conditions," the Ark-Royal, of 800 tons, 425

sailors, and 55 guns.

Next in rank was Vice-Admiral Drake, in the Revenge, of 500 tons, 250 men

and 40 guns. Lord Henry Seymour, in the Rainbow, of precisely the same

size and strength, commanded the inner squadron, which cruised in the

neighbourhood of the French and Flemish coast.

The Hollanders and Zeelanders had undertaken to blockade the Duke of

Parma still more closely, and pledged themselves that he should never

venture to show himself upon the open sea at all. The mouth of the

Scheldt, and the dangerous shallows off the coast of Newport and Dunkirk,

swarmed with their determined and well-seasoned craft, from the flybooter

or filibuster of the rivers, to the larger armed vessels, built to

confront every danger, and to deal with any adversary.

Farnese, on his part, within that well-guarded territory, had, for months

long, scarcely slackened in his preparations, day or night. Whole forests

had been felled in the land of Waas to furnish him with transports and

gun-boats, and with such rapidity, that--according to his enthusiastic

historiographer--each tree seemed by magic to metamorphose itself into a

vessel at the word of command. Shipbuilders, pilots, and seamen, were

brought from the Baltic, from Hamburgh, from Genoa. The whole surface of

the obedient Netherlands, whence wholesome industry had long been

banished, was now the scene of a prodigious baleful activity. Portable

bridges for fording the rivers of England, stockades for entrenchments,

rafts and oars, were provided in vast numbers, and Alexander dug canals

and widened natural streams to facilitate his operations. These wretched

Provinces, crippled, impoverished, languishing for peace, were forced to

contribute out of their poverty, and to find strength even in their

exhaustion, to furnish the machinery for destroying their own countrymen,

and for hurling to perdition their most healthful neighbour.

And this approaching destruction of England--now generally believed

in--was like the sound of a trumpet throughout Catholic Europe. Scions of

royal houses, grandees of azure blood, the bastard of Philip II., the

bastard of Savoy, the bastard of Medici, the Margrave of Burghaut, the

Archduke Charles, nephew of the Emperor, the Princes of Ascoli and of

Melfi, the Prince of Morocco, and others of illustrious name, with many a

noble English traitor, like Paget, and Westmoreland, and Stanley, all

hurried to the camp of Farnese, as to some famous tournament, in which it

was a disgrace to chivalry if their names were not enrolled. The roads

were trampled with levies of fresh troops from Spain, Naples, Corsica,

the States of the Church, the Milanese, Germany, Burgundy.

Blas Capizucca was sent in person to conduct reinforcements from the

north of Italy. The famous Terzio of Naples, under Carlos Pinelo, arrived

3500 strong--the most splendid regiment ever known in the history of war.

Every man had an engraved corslet and musket-barrel, and there were many

who wore gilded armour, while their waving plumes and festive caparisons

made them look like holiday-makers, rather than real campaigners, in the

eyes of the inhabitants of the various cities through which their road

led them to Flanders. By the end of April the Duke of Parma saw himself

at the head of 60,000 men, at a monthly expense of 454,315 crowns or

dollars. Yet so rapid was the progress of disease--incident to northern

climates--among those southern soldiers, that we shall find the number

woefully diminished before they were likely to set foot upon the English

shore.

Thus great preparations, simultaneously with pompous negotiations, had

been going forward month after month, in England, Holland, Flanders.

Nevertheless, winter, spring, two-thirds of summer, had passed away, and

on the 29th July, 1588, there remained the same sickening uncertainty,

which was the atmosphere in which the nations had existed for a

twelvemonth.

Howard had cruised for a few weeks between England and Spain, without any

results, and, on his return, had found it necessary to implore her

Majesty, as late as July, to "trust no more to Judas' kisses, but to her

sword, not her enemy's word."

ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

A burnt cat fears the fire

A free commonwealth--was thought an absurdity

Baiting his hook a little to his appetite

Canker of a long peace

Englishmen and Hollanders preparing to cut each other's throats

Faction has rarely worn a more mischievous aspect

Hard at work, pouring sand through their sieves

She relieth on a hope that will deceive her

Sparing and war have no affinity together

The worst were encouraged with their good success

Trust her sword, not her enemy's word

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 57, 1588

CHAPTER XIX. Part 1.

Philip Second in his Cabinet--His System of Work and Deception--His

vast but vague Schemes of Conquest--The Armada sails--Description of

the Fleet--The Junction with Parma unprovided for--The Gale off

Finisterre--Exploits of David Gwynn--First Engagements in the

English Channel--Considerable Losses of the Spaniards--General

Engagement near Portland--Superior Seamanship of the English

It is now time to look in upon the elderly letter-writer in the Escorial,

and see how he was playing his part in the drama.

His counsellors were very few. His chief advisers were rather like

private secretaries than cabinet ministers; for Philip had been

withdrawing more and more into seclusion and mystery as the webwork of

his schemes multiplied and widened. He liked to do his work, assisted by

a very few confidential servants. The Prince of Eboli, the famous Ruy

Gomez, was dead. So was Cardinal Granvelle. So were Erasso and Delgado.

His midnight council--junta de noche--for thus, from its original hour of

assembling, and the all of secrecy in which it was enwrapped, it was

habitually called--was a triumvirate. Don Juan de Idiaquez was chief

secretary of state and of war; the Count de Chinchon was minister for the

household, for Italian affairs, and for the kingdom of Aragon; Don

Cristoval de Moura, the monarch's chief favourite, was at the head of the

finance department, and administered the affairs of Portugal and Castile!

The president of the council of Italy, after Granvelle's death, was

Quiroga, cardinal of Toledo, and inquisitor-general. Enormously long

letters, in the King's: name, were prepared chiefly by the two

secretaries, Idiaquez and Moura. In their hands was the vast

correspondence with Mendoza and Parma, and Olivarez at Rome, and with

Mucio; in which all the stratagems for the subjugation of Protestant

Europe were slowly and artistically contrived. Of the great conspiracy

against human liberty, of which the Pope and Philip were the double head,

this midnight triumvirate was the chief executive committee.

These innumerable despatches, signed by Philip, were not the emanations

of his own mind. The King had a fixed purpose to subdue Protestantism and

to conquer the world; but the plans for carrying the purpose into effect

were developed by subtler and more comprehensive minds than his own. It

was enough for him to ponder wearily over schemes which he was supposed

to dictate, and to give himself the appearance of supervising what he

scarcely comprehended. And his work of supervision was often confined to

pettiest details. The handwriting of Spain and Italy at that day was

beautiful, and in our modern eyes seems neither antiquated nor

ungraceful. But Philip's scrawl was like that of 'a' clown just admitted

to a writing-school, and the whole margin of a fairly penned despatch

perhaps fifty pages long; laid before him for comment and signature by

Idiaquez or Moura, would be sometimes covered with a few awkward

sentences, which it was almost impossible to read, and which, when

deciphered, were apt to reveal suggestions of astounding triviality.

Thus a most important despatch--in which the King, with his own hand, was

supposed to be conveying secret intelligence to Mendoza concerning the

Armada, together with minute directions for the regulation of Guise's

conduct at the memorable epoch of the barricades--contained but a single

comment from the monarch's own pen. "The Armada has been in Lisbon about

a month--quassi un mes"--wrote the secretary. "There is but one s in

quasi," said Philip.

Again, a despatch of Mendoza to the King contained the intelligence that

Queen Elizabeth was, at the date of the letter, residing at St. James's.

Philip, who had no objection to display his knowledge of English

affairs--as became the man who had already been almost sovereign of

England, and meant to be entirely so--supplied a piece of information in

an apostille to this despatch. "St. James is a house of recreation," he

said, "which was once a monastery. There is a park between it, and the

palace which is called Huytal; but why it is called Huytal, I am sure I

don't know." His researches in the English language had not enabled him

to recognize the adjective and substantive out of which the abstruse

compound White-Hall (Huyt-al), was formed.

On another occasion, a letter from England containing important

intelligence concerning the number of soldiers enrolled in that country

to resist the Spanish invasion, the quantity of gunpowder and various

munitions collected, with other details of like nature, furnished besides

a bit of information of less vital interest. "In the windows of the

Queen's presence-chamber they have discovered a great quantity of lice,

all clustered together," said the writer.

Such a minute piece of statistics could not escape the microscopic eye of

Philip. So, disregarding the soldiers and the gunpowder, he commented

only on this last-mentioned clause of the letter; and he did it

cautiously too, as a King surnamed the Prudent should:--

"But perhaps they were fleas," wrote Philip.

Such examples--and many more might be given--sufficiently indicate the

nature of the man on whom such enormous responsibilities rested, and who

had been, by the adulation of his fellow-creatures, elevated into a god.

And we may cast a glance upon him as he sits in his cabinet-buried among

those piles of despatches--and receiving methodically, at stated hours,

Idiaquez, or Moura, or Chincon, to settle the affairs of so many millions

of the human race; and we may watch exactly the progress of that scheme,

concerning which so many contradictory rumours were circulating in

Europe. In the month of April a Walsingham could doubt, even in August an

ingenuous comptroller could disbelieve, the reality of the great project,

and the Pope himself, even while pledging himself to assistance, had been

systematically deceived. He had supposed the whole scheme rendered futile

by the exploit of Drake at Cadiz, and had declared that "the Queen of

England's distaff was worth more than Philip's sword, that the King was a

poor creature, that he would never be able to come to a resolution, and

that even if he should do so, it would be too late;" and he had

subsequently been doing his best, through his nuncio in France, to

persuade the Queen to embrace the Catholic religion, and thus save

herself from the impending danger. Henry III. had even been urged by the

Pope to send a special ambassador to her for this purpose--as if the

persuasions of the wretched Valois were likely to be effective with

Elizabeth Tudor--and Burghley had, by means of spies in Rome, who

pretended to be Catholics, given out intimations that the Queen was

seriously contemplating such a step. Thus the Pope, notwithstanding

Cardinal Allan, the famous million, and the bull, was thought by Mendoza

to be growing lukewarm in the Spanish cause, and to be urging upon the

"Englishwoman" the propriety of converting herself, even at the late hour

of May, 1588.

But Philip, for years, had been maturing his scheme, while reposing

entire confidence--beyond his own cabinet doors--upon none but Alexander

Farnese; and the Duke--alone of all men--was perfectly certain that the

invasion would, this year, be attempted.

The captain-general of the expedition was the Marquis of Santa Cruz, a

man of considerable naval experience, and of constant good fortune, who,

in thirty years, had never sustained a defeat. He had however shown no

desire to risk one when Drake had offered him the memorable challenge in

the year 1587, and perhaps his reputation of the invincible captain had

been obtained by the same adroitness on previous occasions. He was no

friend to Alexander Farnese, and was much disgusted when informed of the

share allotted to the Duke in the great undertaking. A course of reproach

and perpetual reprimand was the treatment to which he was, in

consequence, subjected, which was not more conducive to the advancement

of the expedition than it was to the health of the captain-general. Early

in January the Cardinal Archduke was sent to Lisbon to lecture him, with

instructions to turn a deaf ear to all his remonstrances, to deal with

him peremptorily, to forbid his writing letters on the subject to his

Majesty, and to order him to accept his post or to decline it without

conditions, in which latter contingency he was to be informed that his

successor was already decided upon.

This was not the most eligible way perhaps for bringing the

captain-general into a cheerful mood; particularly as he was expected to

be ready in January to sail to the Flemish coast. Nevertheless the

Marquis expressed a hope to accomplish his sovereign's wishes; and great

had been the bustle in all the dockyards of Naples, Sicily, and Spain;

particularly in the provinces of Guipuzcoa, Biscay, and Andalusia, and in

the four great cities of the coast. War-ships of all dimensions, tenders,

transports, soldiers, sailors, sutlers, munitions of war, provisions,

were all rapidly concentrating in Lisbon as the great place of

rendezvous; and Philip confidently believed, and as confidently informed

the Duke of Parma, that he, might be expecting the Armada at any time

after the end of January.

Perhaps in the history of mankind there has never been a vast project of

conquest conceived and matured in so protracted and yet so desultory a

manner, as was this famous Spanish invasion. There was something almost

puerile in the whims rather than schemes of Philip for carrying out his

purpose. It was probable that some resistance would be offered, at least

by the navy of England, to the subjugation of that country, and the King

had enjoyed an opportunity, the preceding summer, of seeing the way in

which English sailors did their work. He had also appeared to understand

the necessity of covering the passage of Farnese from the Flemish ports

into the Thames, by means of the great Spanish fleet from Lisbon.

Nevertheless he never seemed to be aware that Farnese could not invade

England quite by himself, and was perpetually expecting to hear that he

had done so.

"Holland and Zeeland," wrote Alexander to Philip, "have been arming with

their accustomed promptness; England has made great preparations. I have

done my best to make the impossible possible; but your letter told me to

wait for Santa Cruz, and to expect him very shortly. If, on the contrary,

you had told me to make the passage without him, I would have made the

attempt, although we had every one of us perished. Four ships of war

could sink every one of my boats. Nevertheless I beg to be informed of

your Majesty's final order. If I am seriously expected to make the

passage without Santa Cruz, I am ready to do it, although I should go all

alone in a cock-boat."

But Santa Cruz at least was not destined to assist in the conquest of

England; for, worn out with fatigue and vexation, goaded by the

reproaches and insults of Philip, Santa Cruz was dead. He was replaced in

the chief command of the fleet by the Duke of Medina Sidonia, a grandee

of vast wealth, but with little capacity and less experience. To the iron

marquis it was said that a golden duke had succeeded; but the duke of

gold did not find it easier to accomplish impossibilities than his

predecessor had done. Day after day, throughout the months of winter and

spring, the King had been writing that the fleet was just on the point of

sailing, and as frequently he had been renewing to Alexander Farnese the

intimation that perhaps, after all, he might find an opportunity of

crossing to England, without waiting for its arrival. And Alexander, with

the same regularity, had been informing his master that the troops in the

Netherlands had been daily dwindling from sickness and other causes, till

at last, instead of the 30,000 effective infantry, with which it had been

originally intended to make the enterprise, he had not more than 17,000

in the month of April. The 6000 Spaniards, whom he was to receive from

the fleet of Medina Sidonia, would therefore be the very mainspring of

his army. After leaving no more soldiers in the Netherlands than were

absolutely necessary for the defence of the obedient Provinces against

the rebels, he could only take with him to England 23,000 men, even after

the reinforcements from Medina. "When we talked of taking England by

surprise," said Alexander, "we never thought of less than 30,000. Now

that she is alert and ready for us, and that it is certain we must fight

by sea and by land, 50,000 would be few." He almost ridiculed the King's

suggestion that a feint might be made by way of besieging some few places

in Holland or Zeeland. The whole matter in hand, he said, had become as

public as possible, and the only efficient blind was the

peace-negotiation; for many believed, as the English deputies were now

treating at Ostend, that peace would follow.

At last, on the 28th, 29th, and 30th May, 1588, the fleet, which had been

waiting at Lisbon more than a month for favourable weather, set sail from

that port, after having been duly blessed by the Cardinal Archduke

Albert, viceroy of Portugal.

There were rather more than one hundred and thirty ships in all, divided

into ten squadrons. There was the squadron of Portugal, consisting of ten

galleons, and commanded by the captain-general, Medina Sidonia. In the

squadron of Castile were fourteen ships of various sizes, under General

Diego Flores de Valdez. This officer was one of the most experienced

naval officers in the Spanish service, and was subsequently ordered, in

consequence, to sail with the generalissimo in his flag-ship. In the

squadron of Andalusia were ten galleons and other vessels, under General

Pedro de Valdez. In the squadron of Biscay were ten galleons and lesser

ships, under General Juan Martinet de Recalde, upper admiral of the

fleet. In the squadron of Guipuzcoa were ten galleons, under General

Miguel de Oquendo. In the squadron of Italy were ten ships, under General

Martin de Bertendona. In the squadron of Urcas, or store-ships, were

twenty-three sail, under General Juan Gomez de Medina. The squadron of

tenders, caravels, and other vessels, numbered twenty-two sail, under

General Antonio Hurtado de Mendoza. The squadron of four galeasses was

commanded by Don Hugo de Moncada. The squadron of four galeras, or

galleys, was in charge of Captain Diego de Medrado.

Next in command to Medina Sidonia was Don Alonzo de Leyva,

captain-general of the light horse of Milan. Don Francisco de Bobadilla

was marshal-general of the camp. Don Diego de Pimentel was marshal of the

camp to the famous Terzio or legion of Sicily.

The total tonnage of the fleet was 59,120: the number of guns was 3165.

Of Spanish troops there were 19,295 on board: there were 8252 sailors and

2088 galley-slaves. Besides these, there was a force of noble volunteers,

belonging to the most illustrious houses of Spain, with their attendants

amounting to nearly 2000 in all. There was also Don Martin Alaccon,

administrator and vicar-general of the Holy Inquisition, at the head of

some 290 monks of the mendicant orders, priests and familiars. The grand

total of those embarked was about 30,000. The daily expense of the fleet

was estimated by Don Diego de Pimentel at 12,000 ducats a-day, and the

daily cost of the combined naval and military force under Farnese and

Medina Sidonia was stated at 30,000 ducats.

The size of the ships ranged from 1200 tons to 300. The galleons, of

which there were about sixty, were huge round-stemmed clumsy vessels,

with bulwarks three or four feet thick, and built up at stem and stern,

like castles. The galeasses of which there were four--were a third larger

than the ordinary galley, and were rowed each by three hundred

galley-slaves. They consisted of an enormous towering fortress at the

stern; a castellated structure almost equally massive in front, with

seats for the rowers amidships. At stem and stern and between each of the

slaves' benches were heavy cannon. These galeasses were floating

edifices, very wonderful to contemplate. They were gorgeously decorated.

There were splendid state-apartments, cabins, chapels, and pulpits in

each, and they were amply provided with awnings, cushions, streamers,

standards, gilded saints, and bands of music. To take part in an

ostentatious pageant, nothing could be better devised. To fulfil the

great objects of a war-vessel--to sail and to fight--they were the worst

machines ever launched upon the ocean. The four galleys were similar to

the galeasses in every respect except that of size, in which they were by

one-third inferior.

All the ships of the fleet--galeasses, galleys, galleons, and hulks--were

so encumbered with top-hamper, so overweighted in proportion to their

draught of water, that they could bear but little canvas, even with

smooth seas and light and favourable winds. In violent tempests,

therefore, they seemed likely to suffer. To the eyes of the 16th century

these vessels seemed enormous. A ship of 1300 tons was then a monster

rarely seen, and a fleet, numbering from 130 to 150 sail, with an

aggregate tonnage of 60,000, seemed sufficient to conquer the world, and

to justify the arrogant title, by which it had baptized itself, of the

Invincible.

Such was the machinery which Philip had at last set afloat, for the

purpose of dethroning Elizabeth and establishing the inquisition in

England. One hundred and forty ships, eleven thousand Spanish veterans,

as many more recruits, partly Spanish, partly Portuguese, 2000 grandees,

as many galley-slaves, and three hundred barefooted friars and

inquisitors.

The plan was simple. Medina Sidonia was to proceed straight from Lisbon

to Calais roads: there he was to wait: for the Duke of Parma, who was to

come forth from Newport, Sluys, and Dunkerk, bringing with him his 17,000

veterans, and to assume the chief command of the whole expedition. They

were then to cross the channel to Dover, land the army of Parma,

reinforced with 6000 Spaniards from the fleet, and with these 23,000 men

Alexander was to march at once upon London. Medina Sidonia was to seize

and fortify the Isle of Wight, guard the entrance of the harbours against

any interference from the Dutch and English fleets, and--so soon as the

conquest of England had been effected--he was to proceed to Ireland. It

had been the wish of Sir William Stanley that Ireland should be

subjugated first, as a basis of operations against England; but this had

been overruled. The intrigues of Mendoza and Farnese, too, with the

Catholic nobles of Scotland, had proved, after all, unsuccessful. King

James had yielded to superior offers of money and advancement held out to

him by Elizabeth, and was now, in Alexander's words, a confirmed heretic.

There was no course left, therefore, but to conquer England at once. A

strange omission had however been made in the plan from first to last.

The commander of the whole expedition was the Duke of Parma: on his head

was the whole responsibility. Not a gun was to be fired--if it could be

avoided--until he had come forth with his veterans to make his junction

with the Invincible Armada off Calais. Yet there was no arrangement

whatever to enable him to come forth--not the slightest provision to

effect that junction. It would almost seem that the letter-writer of the

Escorial had been quite ignorant of the existence of the Dutch fleets off

Dunkerk, Newport, and Flushing, although he had certainly received

information enough of this formidable obstacle to his plan.

"Most joyful I shall be," said Farnese--writing on one of the days when

he had seemed most convinced by Valentine Dale's arguments, and driven to

despair by his postulates--"to see myself with these soldiers on English

ground, where, with God's help, I hope to accomplish your Majesty's

demands." He was much troubled however to find doubts entertained at the

last moment as to his 6000 Spaniards; and certainly it hardly needed an

argument to prove that the invasion of England with but 17,000 soldiers

was a somewhat hazardous scheme. Yet the pilot Moresini had brought him

letters from Medina Sidonia, in which the Duke expressed hesitation about

parting with these 6000 veterans; unless the English fleet should have

been previously destroyed, and had also again expressed his hope that

Parma would be punctual to the rendezvous. Alexander immediately combated

these views in letters to Medina and to the King. He avowed that he would

not depart one tittle from the plan originally laid down. The 6000 men,

and more if possible, were to be furnished him, and the Spanish Armada

was to protect his own flotilla, and to keep the channel clear of

enemies. No other scheme was possible, he said, for it was clear that his

collection of small flat-bottomed river-boats and hoys could not even

make the passage, except in smooth weather. They could not contend with a

storm, much less with the enemy's ships, which would destroy them utterly

in case of a meeting, without his being able to avail himself of his

soldiers--who would be so closely packed as to be hardly moveable--or of

any human help. The preposterous notion that he should come out with his

flotilla to make a junction with Medina off Calais, was over and over

again denounced by Alexander with vehemence and bitterness, and most

boding expressions were used by him as to the probable result, were such

a delusion persisted in.

Every possible precaution therefore but one had been taken. The King of

France--almost at the same instant in which Guise had been receiving his

latest instructions from the Escorial for dethroning and destroying that

monarch--had been assured by Philip of his inalienable affection; had

been informed of the object of this great naval expedition--which was not

by any means, as Mendoza had stated to Henry, an enterprise against

France or England, but only a determined attempt to clear the sea, once

for all, of these English pirates who had done so much damage for years

past on the high seas--and had been requested, in case any Spanish ship

should be driven by stress of weather into French ports, to afford them

that comfort and protection to which the vessels of so close and friendly

an ally were entitled.

Thus there was bread, beef, and powder enough--there were monks and

priests enough--standards, galley-slaves, and inquisitors enough; but

there were no light vessels in the Armada, and no heavy vessels in

Parma's fleet. Medina could not go to Farnese, nor could Farnese come to

Medina. The junction was likely to be difficult, and yet it had never

once entered the heads of Philip or his counsellors to provide for that

difficulty. The King never seemed to imagine that Farnese, with 40,000 or

50,000 soldiers in the Netherlands, a fleet of 300 transports, and power

to dispose of very large funds for one great purpose, could be kept in

prison by a fleet of Dutch skippers and corsairs.

With as much sluggishness as might have been expected from their clumsy

architecture, the ships of the Armada consumed nearly three weeks in

sailing from Lisbon to the neighbourhood of Cape Finisterre. Here they

were overtaken by a tempest, and were scattered hither and thither,

almost at the mercy of the winds and waves; for those unwieldy hulks were

ill adapted to a tempest in the Bay of Biscay. There were those in the

Armada, however, to whom the storm was a blessing. David Gwynn, a Welsh

mariner, had sat in the Spanish hulks a wretched galley-slave--as

prisoner of war for more than eleven years, hoping, year after year, for

a chance of escape from bondage. He sat now among the rowers of the great

galley, the Trasana, one of the humblest instruments by which the

subjugation of his native land to Spain and Rome was to be effected.

Very naturally, among the ships which suffered most in the gale were the

four huge unwieldy galleys--a squadron of four under Don Diego de

Medrado--with their enormous turrets at stem and stern, and their low and

open waists. The chapels, pulpits, and gilded Madonnas proved of little

avail in a hurricane. The Diana, largest of the four, went down with all

hands; the Princess was labouring severely in the trough of the sea, and

the Trasana was likewise in imminent danger. So the master of this galley

asked the Welsh slave, who had far more experience and seamanship than he

possessed himself, if it were possible to save the vessel. Gwynn saw an

opportunity for which he had been waiting eleven years. He was ready to

improve it. He pointed out to the captain the hopelessness of attempting

to overtake the Armada. They should go down, he said, as the Diana had

already done, and as the Princess was like at any moment to do, unless

they took in every rag of sail, and did their best with their oars to

gain the nearest port. But in order that the rowers might exert

themselves to the utmost, it was necessary that the soldiers, who were a

useless incumbrance on deck, should go below. Thus only could the ship be

properly handled. The captain, anxious to save his ship and his life,

consented. Most of the soldiers were sent beneath the hatches: a few were

ordered to sit on the benches among the slaves. Now there had been a

secret understanding for many days among these unfortunate men, nor were

they wholly without weapons. They had been accustomed to make toothpicks

and other trifling articles for sale out of broken sword-blades and other

refuse bits of steel. There was not a man among them who had not thus

provided himself with a secret stiletto.

At first Gwynn occupied himself with arrangements for weathering the

gale. So soon however as the ship had been made comparatively easy, he

looked around him, suddenly threw down his cap, and raised his hand to

the rigging. It was a preconcerted signal. The next instant he stabbed

the captain to the heart, while each one of the galley-slaves killed the

soldier nearest him; then, rushing below, they surprised and overpowered

the rest of the troops, and put them all to death.

Coming again upon deck, David Gwynn descried the fourth galley of the

squadron, called the Royal, commanded by Commodore Medrado in person,

bearing down upon them, before the wind. It was obvious that the Vasana

was already an object of suspicion.

"Comrades," said Gwynn, "God has given us liberty, and by our courage we

must prove ourselves worthy of the boon."