The Reformation at its origin was no introduction of novel heresies.  It was a revolt of the laity of Europe against the profligacy and avarice of the clergy.  The popes and cardinals pretended to be the representatives of Heaven.  When called to account for abuse of their powers, they had behaved precisely as mere corrupt human kings and aristocracies behave.  They had intrigued; they had excommunicated; they had set nation against nation, sovereigns against their subjects; they had encouraged assassination; they had made themselves infamous by horrid massacres, and had taught one half of foolish Christendom to hate the other.  The hearts of the poor English seamen whose comrades had been burnt at Seville to make a Spanish holiday, thrilled with a sacred determination to end such scenes.  The purpose that was in them broke into a wild war-music, as the wind harp swells and screams under the breath of the storm.  I found in the Record Office an unsigned letter of some inspired old sea-dog, written in a bold round hand and addressed to Elizabeth.  The ships’ companies which in summer served in Philip’s men-of-war went in winter in thousands to catch cod on the Banks of Newfoundland.  ‘Give me five vessels,’ the writer said, ’and I will go out and sink them all, and the galleons shall rot in Cadiz Harbour for want of hands to sail them.  But decide, Madam, and decide quickly.  Time flies, and will not return. The wings of man’s life are plumed with the feathers of death.’

The Queen did not decide.  The five ships were not sent, and the poor Castilian sailors caught their cod in peace.  But in spite of herself Elizabeth was driven forward by the tendencies of things.  The death of the Prince of Orange left the States without a Government.  The Prince of Parma was pressing them hard.  Without a leader they were lost.  They offered themselves to Elizabeth, to be incorporated in the English Empire.  They said that if she refused they must either submit to Spain or become provinces of France.  The Netherlands, whether Spanish or French, would be equally dangerous to England.  The Netherlands once brought back under the Pope, England’s turn would come next; while to accept the proposal meant instant and desperate war, both with France and Spain too—­for France would never allow England again to gain a foot on the Continent.  Elizabeth knew not what to do.  She would and she would not.  She did not accept; she did not refuse.  It was neither No nor Yes.  Philip, who was as fond of indirect ways as herself, proposed to quicken her irresolution.

The harvest had failed in Galicia, and the population were starving.  England grew more corn than she wanted, and, under a special promise that the crews should not be molested, a fleet of corn-traders had gone with cargoes of grain to Coruna, Bilbao, and Santander.  The King of Spain, on hearing that Elizabeth was treating with the States, issued a sudden order to seize the vessels, confiscate the cargoes,