be by design and of purpose suppressed.”  Whatever of truth there may have been in the bitter remark, it is certainly strange that a man so gifted as Sidney—­of whom his father-in-law Walsingham had declared, that “although he had influence in all countries, and a hand upon all affairs, his Philip did far overshoot him with his own bow”—­should have passed so much of his life in retirement, or in comparatively insignificant employments.  The Queen, as he himself observed, was most apt to interpret everything to his disadvantage.  Among those who knew him well, there seems never to have been a dissenting voice.  His father, Sir Henry Sidney, lord-deputy of Ireland, and president of Wales, a states man of accomplishments and experience, called him “lumen familiae suae,” and said of him, with pardonable pride, “that he had the most virtues which he had ever found in any man; that he was the very formular that all well-disposed young gentlemen do form their manners and life by.”

The learned Hubert Languet, companion of Melancthon, tried friend of William the Silent, was his fervent admirer and correspondent.  The great Prince of Orange held him in high esteem, and sent word to Queen Elizabeth, that having himself been an actor in the most important affairs of Europe, and acquainted with her foremost men, he could “pledge his credit that her Majesty had one of the ripest and greatest councillors of state in Sir Philip Sidney that lived in Europe.”

The incidents of his brief and brilliant life, up to his arrival upon the fatal soil of the Netherlands, are too well known to need recalling.  Adorned with the best culture that, in a learned age, could be obtained in the best seminaries of his native country, where, during childhood and youth, he had been distinguished for a “lovely and familiar gravity beyond his years,” he rapidly acquired the admiration of his comrades and the esteem of all his teachers.

Travelling for three years, he made the acquaintance and gained the personal regard of such opposite characters as Charles IX. of France, Henry of Navarre, Don John of Austria, and William of Orange, and perfected his accomplishments by residence and study, alternately, in courts, camps, and learned universities.  He was in Paris during the memorable days of August, 1572, and narrowly escaped perishing in the St. Bartholomew Massacre.  On his return, he was, for a brief period, the idol of the English court, which, it was said, “was maimed without his company.”  At the age of twenty-one he was appointed special envoy to Vienna, ostensibly for the purpose of congratulating the Emperor Rudolph upon his accession, but in reality that he might take the opportunity of sounding the secret purposes of the Protestant princes of Germany, in regard to the great contest of the age.  In this mission, young as he was, he acquitted himself, not only to the satisfaction, but to the admiration of Walsingham, certainly a master himself in that occult science, the diplomacy of the sixteenth century.  “There hath not been,” said he, “any gentleman, I am sure, that hath gone through so honourable a charge with as great commendations as he.”