period with which we are now occupied, that the true characteristics of Elizabeth, the Earl of Leicester, and other prominent personages, must be scanned, and the study is most important, for it was by those characteristics, in combination with other human elements embodied in distant parts of Christendom, that the destiny of the world was determined.  In that age, more than in our own perhaps, the influence of the individual was widely and intensely felt.  Historical chymistry is only rendered possible by a detection of the subtle emanations, which it was supposed would for ever elude analysis, but which survive in those secret, frequently ciphered intercommunications.  Philip II., William of Orange, Queen Elizabeth, Alexander Farnese, Robert Dudley, never dreamed—­when disclosing their inmost thoughts to their trusted friends at momentous epochs—­that the day would come on earth when those secrets would be no longer hid from the patient enquirer after truth.  Well for those whose reputations before the judgment-seat of history appear even comparatively pure, after impartial comparison of their motives with their deeds.

“For mine own part, Mr. Secretary,” wrote Leicester, “I am resolved to do that which shall be fit for a poor man’s honour, and honestly to obey her Majesty’s commandment.  Let the rest fall out to others, it shall not concern me.  I mean to assemble myself to the camp, where my authority must wholly lie, and will there do that which in good reason and duty I shall be bound to do.  I am sorry that her Majesty doth deal in this sort, and if content to overthrow so willingly her own cause.  If there can be means to salve this sore, I will.  If not,—­I tell you what shall become of me, as truly as God lives.”

Yet it is remarkable, that, in spite of this dark intimation, the Earl, after all, did not state what was to become of him if the sore was not salved.  He was, however, explicit enough as to the causes of his grief, and very vehement in its manifestations.  “Another matter which shall concern me deeply,” he said, “and all the subjects there, is now by you to be carefully considered, which is—­money.  I find that the money is already gone, and this now given to the treasurer will do no more than pay to the end of the month.  I beseech you look to it, for by the Lord!  I will bear no more so miserable burdens; for if I have no money to pay them, let them come home, or what else.  I will not starve them, nor stay them.  There was never gentleman nor general so sent out as I am; and if neither Queen nor council care to help it, but leave men desperate, as I see men shall be, that inconvenience will follow which I trust in the Lord I shall be free of.”

He then used language about himself, singularly resembling the phraseology employed by Elizabeth concerning him, when she was scolding the Netherland commissioners for the dilatoriness and parsimony of the States.