Death of Queen Elizabeth—­Condition of Spain—­Legations to James I.  —­Union of England and Scotland—­Characteristics of the new monarch —­The English Court and Government—­Piratical practices of the English—­Audience of the States’ envoy with king James—­Queen Elizabeth’s scheme far remodelling Europe—­Ambassador extraordinary from Henry iv. to James—­De Rosny’s strictures on the English people—­Private interview of De Rosny with the States’ envoy—­De Rosny’s audience of the king—­Objects of his mission—­Insinuations of the Duke of Northumberland—­Invitation of the embassy to Greenwich—­Promise of James to protect the Netherlands against Spain—­Misgivings of Barneveld—­Conference at Arundel House—­Its unsatisfactory termination—­Contempt of De Rosny for the English counsellors—­Political aspect of Europe—­De Rosny’s disclosure to the king of the secret object of his mission—­Agreement of James to the proposals of De Rosny—­Ratification of the treaty of alliance—­ Return of De Rosny and suite to France—­Arrival of the Spanish ambassador.

On the 24th of March, 1603, Queen Elizabeth died at Richmond, having nearly completed her seventieth year.  The two halves of the little island of Britain were at last politically adjoined to each other by the personal union of the two crowns.

A foreigner, son of the woman executed by Elizabeth, succeeded to Elizabeth’s throne.  It was most natural that the Dutch republic and the French king, the archdukes and his Catholic Majesty, should be filled with anxiety as to the probable effect of this change of individuals upon the fortunes of the war.

For this Dutch war of independence was the one absorbing and controlling interest in Christendom.  Upon that vast, central, and, as men thought, baleful constellation the fates of humanity, were dependent.  Around it lesser political events were forced to gravitate, and, in accordance to their relation to it, were bright or obscure.  It was inevitable that those whose vocation it was to ponder the aspects of the political firmament, the sages and high-priests who assumed to direct human action and to foretell human destiny, should now be more than ever perplexed.

Spain, since the accession of Philip iii. to his father’s throne, although rapidly declining in vital energy, had not yet disclosed its decrepitude to the world.  Its boundless ambition survived as a political tradition rather than a real passion, while contemporaries still trembled at the vision of universal monarchy in which the successor of Charlemagne and of Charles V. was supposed to indulge.

Meantime, no feebler nor more insignificant mortal existed on earth than this dreaded sovereign.

Scarcely a hairdresser or lemonade-dealer in all Spain was less cognizant of the political affairs of the kingdom than was its monarch, for Philip’s first care upon assuming the crown was virtually to abdicate in favour of the man soon afterwards known as the Duke of Lerma.