“But,” said Daniel de Dieu, one of the deputies, “the majority of the States is Popish.”

“Be it so,” replied Sir Francis; “nevertheless they will sooner permit the exercise of the reformed religion than take up arms and begin the war anew.”

He then alluded to the proposition of the deputies to exclude all religious worship but that of the reformed church—­all false religion—­as they expressed themselves.

“Her Majesty,” said he, “is well disposed to permit some exercise of their religion to the Papists.  So far as regards my own feelings, if we were now in the beginning, of the reformation, and the papacy were still entire, I should willingly concede such exercise; but now that the Papacy has been overthrown, I think it would not be safe to give such permission.  When we were disputing, at the time of the pacification of Ghent, whether the Popish religion should be partially permitted, the Prince of Orange was of the affirmative opinion; but I, who was then at Antwerp, entertained the contrary conviction.”

“But,” said one of the deputies—­pleased to find that Walsingham was more of their way of thinking on religious toleration than the great Prince of Orange had been, or than Maurice and Barneveld then were—­“but her Majesty will, we hope, follow the advice of her good and faithful counsellors.”

“To tell you the truth,” answered Sir Francis, “great princes are not always inspired with a sincere and upright zeal;”—­it was the third time he had made this observation”—­although, so far as regards the maintenance of the religion in the Netherlands, that is a matter of necessity.  Of that there is no fear, since otherwise all the pious would depart, and none would remain but Papists, and, what is more, enemies of England.  Therefore the Queen is aware that the religion must be maintained.”

He then advised the deputies to hand in the memorial to her Majesty, without any long speeches, for which there was then no time or opportunity; and it was subsequently arranged that they should be presented to the Queen as she would be mounting her horse at St. James’s to ride to Richmond.

Accordingly on the 15th July, as her Majesty came forth at the gate, with a throng of nobles and ladies—­some about to accompany her and some bidding her adieu—­the deputies fell on their knees before her.  Notwithstanding the advice of Walsingham, Daniel de Dieu was bent upon an oration.

“Oh illustrious Queen!” he began, “the churches of the United Netherlands——­”

He had got no further, when the Queen, interrupting, exclaimed, “Oh!  I beg you—­at another time—­I cannot now listen to a speech.  Let me see the memorial.”

Daniel de Dieu then humbly presented that document, which her Majesty graciously received, and then, getting on horseback, rode off to Richmond.’