Elizabeth was taking the diadem from her head—­as the King of Sweden well observed—­and adventuring it upon the doubtful chance of war.  Would it not have been better then—­her mind being once made up—­promptly to accept all the benefits, as well as all the hazards, of the bold game to which she was of necessity a party?  But she could not yet believe in the incredible meanness of Henry III.  “I asked her Majesty” (3rd May, 1585), said Ortel, “whether, in view of these vast preparations in France, it did not behove her to be most circumspect and upon her guard.  For, in the opinion of many men, everything showed one great scheme already laid down—­a general conspiracy throughout Christendom against the reformed religion.  She answered me, that thus far she could not perceive this to be the case; ‘nor could she believe,’ she said, ’that the King of France could be so faint-hearted as to submit to such injuries from the Guises.’”

Time was very soon to show the nature of that unhappy monarch with regard to injuries, and to prove to Elizabeth the error she had committed in doubting his faint-heartedness.  Meanwhile, time was passing, and the Netherlands were shivering in the storm.  They, needed the open sunshine which her caution kept too long behind the clouds.  For it was now enjoined upon Walsingham to manifest a coldness upon the part of the English government towards the States.  Davison was to be allowed to return; “but,” said Sir Francis, “her Majesty would not have you accompany the commissioners who are coming from the Low Countries; but to come over, either before them or after them, lest it be thought they come over by her Majesty’s procurement.”

As if they were not coming over by her Majesty’s most especial procurement, and as if it would matter to Philip—­the union once made between England and Holland—­whether the invitation to that union came first from the one party or the other!

“I am retired for my health from the court to mine own house,” said Walsingham, “but I find those in whose judgment her Majesty reposeth greatest trust so coldly affected unto the cause, as I have no great hope of the matter; and yet, for that the hearts of princes are in the hands of God, who both can will and dispose them at his pleasure, I would be loath to hinder the repair of the commissioners.”

Here certainly, had the sun gone most suddenly into a cloud.  Sir Francis would be loath to advise the commissioners to stay at home, but he obviously thought them coming on as bootless an errand as that which had taken their colleagues so recently into France.

The cause of the trouble was Flushing.  Hence the tears, and the coldness, and the scoldings, on the part of the imperious and the economical Queen.  Flushing was the patrimony—­a large portion of that which was left to him—­of Count Maurice.  It was deeply mortgaged for the payment of the debts of William the Silent, but his son Maurice, so long as the elder brother Philip William remained