And yet at the very outset of Leicester’s administration, there was a whisper of peace-overtures to Spain, secretly made by Elizabeth in her own behalf, and in that of the Provinces.  We shall have soon occasion to examine into the truth of these rumours, which, whether originating in truth or falsehood, were most pernicious in their effects.  The Hollanders were determined never to return to slavery again, so long as they could fire a shot in their own defence.  They earnestly wished English cooperation, but it was the cooperation of English matchlocks and English cutlasses, not English protocols and apostilles.  It was military, not diplomatic machinery that they required.  If they could make up their minds to submit to Philip and the Inquisition again, Philip and the Holy office were but too ready to receive the erring penitents to their embrace without a go-between.

It was war, not peace, therefore, that Holland meant by the English alliance.  It was war, not peace, that Philip intended.  It was war, not peace, that Elizabeth’s most trusty counsellors knew to be inevitable.  There was also, as we have shown, no doubt whatever as to the good disposition, and the great power of the republic to bear its share in the common cause.  The enthusiasm of the Hollanders was excessive.  “There was such a noise, both in Delft, Rotterdam, and Dort,” said Leicester, “in crying ‘God save the Queen!’ as if she had been in Cheapside.”  Her own subjects could not be more loyal than were the citizens and yeomen of Holland.  “The members of the States dare not but be Queen Elizabeth’s,” continued the Earl, “for by the living God! if there should fall but the least unkindness through their default, the people would kill them.  All sorts of people, from highest to lowest, assure themselves, now that they have her Majesty’s good countenance, to beat all the Spaniards out of their country.  Never was there people in such jollity as these be.  I could be content to lose a limb, could her Majesty see these countries and towns as I have done.”  He was in truth excessively elated, and had already, in imagination, vanquished Alexander Farnese, and eclipsed the fame of William the Silent.  “They will serve under me,” he observed, “with a better will than ever they served under the Prince of Orange.  Yet they loved him well, but they never hoped of the liberty of this country till now.”

Thus the English government had every reason to be satisfied with the aspect of its affairs in the Netherlands.  But the nature of the Earl’s authority was indefinite.  The Queen had refused the sovereignty and the protectorate.  She had also distinctly and peremptorily forbidden Leicester to assume any office or title that might seem at variance with such a refusal on her part.  Yet it is certain that, from the very first, he had contemplated some slight disobedience to these prohibitions.  “What government is requisite”—­wrote he in a secret memorandum of “things most necessary